


Tick Of The Clock

by fallingforcas



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Dramatic, F/M, Family revenge, Happens the night of Mickey's and Svetlana's wedding, Kidnapping, M/M, Mickey isn't out and Terry is still a arsehole, Multi, Will tag as I go along, change of words in some parts, mafia type shit, season 3 setting, thriller sort of thing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-02
Updated: 2015-01-15
Packaged: 2018-03-04 23:16:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 23,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3096209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fallingforcas/pseuds/fallingforcas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was the night of Mickey's wedding that Ian Gallagher went missing, with only smashed up phone and the head of a needle left for evidence. </p><p>Lip rounds everyone up ,including the Milkoviches, to go find his brother, bringing them all into something far worse than they expected. Is it too late to save him?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Intruder

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, I am shite at updating things when I have no motivation, but please if you keep pestering me I shall do it. I am really interested in thrillers and was excited to write someone like the film "The Call" , or Taken if you really want to go that far; but Yeh, I have idea's and I'm going to be quick to write them. 
> 
> Please tell me what you think; including your own idea's if you want to help out, and if I go off scale somewhere let me know.

“Not everyone gets to blurt how they fucking feel every minute.” Mickey's face softened, like he was anxious that maybe he could tell his feelings. It was a diverse language, he couldn't just tell Ian what he wanted to hear _and_ get away with it. Terry would be on his ass, killing his ass, hunting down Ian and then they both would be in a gutter somewhere. He could feel Ian's eyes burning into him, the way they would send of the signal of longing and need for him to just say it. The cigarette was almost to a blunt now, the lit nearly touching his finger. 

 

“Mickey-

 

“No I don't wanna fuckin' hear it.” Mickey snapped, realising that he was letting Ian too far in, he couldn't do that not when his dad was less then a couple of feet away. He was going to marry the whore and pretend that life was fucking great, just as Terry wanted. Right now, he couldn't think of what he and Ian _could_ have been, because obviously, that was just a lost cause now. “I am marrying that whore, and you're just gonna have to deal with it.” He didn't notice the sad look of Ian's face, he didn’t want to see it. The last time he saw that face he nearly cracked, and he couldn't risk that this time. 

 

Ian stepped closer, trying effortlessly to close the gap, but Mickey pulled away each step his took. “Mickey, I really need to tell you something.” Despite his different tone, Mickey didn't crumble under the pressure of his statement, he had to leave before this- whatever it is- got any further. Breathing in his braced himself for a different image of himself, his masked personality that he had learned to keep firm and hold prison gates around.

 

“Fuck off Gallagher, this-” He gestured between them, “Is nothing but a cheap fuck, I told ya that before. Its _you_ that got too attached, so its your fucking problem.” It was a schemed lie, he did have _feelings_ for the Redhead, but he was not going to admit that. Pushing him away was not just good for his part, but for Ian too. Mickey knew he was a bad influence on him, a little bit of him told him it was because he was starting to maybe _care._ What a pile of bullshit, no one cared for him in his life, so how could he care? 

 

Ian shifted awkwardly, his hands continuously gripping and releasing the hem of his jacket. “No, Mick. This is important, I need-

 

“I need you to fucking go.” Mickey interrupted, he didn't want to hear Ian's speech about how he fucking loved him, and maybe they could run away together- like those soppy fucking movies Mandy made him watch. Just hearing the words “I need you” would want to make him vomit- no one fucking needed him. He would know it was lies and he was not taking that bullshit, it would make him crumble and his shell needed its strength.

 

Before Ian could carry on, or even protest, Mandy swung the door open the handle smacking against the concrete wall. “Mickey, its fucking starting what are you doing in here?” She narrowed her eyes at the interaction she had interrupted, never really understanding the sudden rise of Mickey's and her best friends friendship. It was weird, and she didn't like it. “Ian, are you here for the ceremony?” Her eyes lit up a little, like she needed the company- because lets be serious she had ran Karen over with her car, and shit like that may be a predicted move with their family, but it still crushed her a little.

 

Mickey loudly stubbed out his cigarette. “Nah, he's just fuckin' leavin.” He pushed past Mandy, sneakily taking a last glance at Ian before he erupted into the start of his new hell. Ian hadn't caught it, he was too busy biting down his nails and repeatedly trying not to create eye contact with Mandy.

 

“You going Ian?” She asked, her voice quieter than usual. Her presence lingered at the door, he could feel her getting more concerned that he wasn't speaking up like usual. “Hey, just because he's a fucking grump doesn't mean you can't take advantage of an open bar.” She walked closer, her hands batting Ian's shaking teeth against his nails. Yet again, he ignored her attempt to create conversation, an unlikely move on his part. “Yo, what the fuck is up? Something happened?”

 

“It's nothing I can't sort out.” He mumbled to himself, knowing that it wasn't so true. Turning back to his nails, he watched in the corner of his eye as Mandy tried to compute his differed behaviour. “Hey, what's this about an open bar? I can stay for a little bit I guess.” He painfully laughed, immediately changing the subject because Mandy would pester him all night if she wanted, and really, alcohol did sound good right now. Together they exited the small room and Mandy fled to the spot she was allocated for the wedding.

 

Ian walked directly to the bar, his eyes fixed on the shitstorm before him. The whole of south-side, but the Gallagher’s, were there; all dressed up like it was the Queen's speech. Mickey was at the front waiting with a unsure smile resting on his face, Ian wanted to smack it off, shout out the truth but he couldn't, he couldn't do that to Mickey, as much as he needed to, he wouldn't. Mandy slipped next to him, her eyes glancing back with a smile towards Ian, who had already took the joys of a full bottle of vodka. Then some cheap ass music started playing and he wanted to puke up his stomach contents. Svetlana walked down the aisle, in a dress similar to  _that_ day. A smile was wide on her face, Ian groaned at the shambles he was reluctantly watching. As she reached the altar, Terry happened to turn with a smirk internment on his lips- direct to Ian's gaze, telling him that it was all over. He had won, Ian was nothing now- nothing but a “cheap fuck”. Really, he always knew he was that. With Kash, he was nothing but a teenage hook up- someone that could satisfy his needs. Then Ned, he was there to be a play thing for the older man, to drink his shitty wine and accept his shitty gifts. All the guilt from the past affairs would remain on him, and yes, that was his fault. 

 

Then there was Mickey.

 

All he was there for was to give him a fuck when his father wasn't around. To make him feel like authority was still in his hands, because he could go against his dad. To that day, he still remained the blood curdling words; “You're nothin' but a warm mouth to me.” And he guessed he was starting to believe it. 'Cause that was what he had always been.

 

His chest clenched at the sight of Mickey smiling, was it real? Or was he just pleasing his father, like always? He couldn't tell any more, things had become so blurry in sight and he couldn't grasp what people actually  _felt._ As they held hands, he couldn't take it any more. He and Mickey had  _never_ held hands, never would he have dared to take that step. But yet, the whore that raped him was allowed to do that, without a flinch, a punch or even a scowl chucked at her. Deep down Ian believed that maybe Mickey did actually love her, he knew it was stupid, but maybe Terry had pushed him that far. 

 

Later, he found himself swaying on his stool. The vodka bottle nearly empty in his hands. He didn't watch the “I dos” or the stupid dance; it was all too fucking set up, he couldn't feel himself letting Mickey go, as he should of. Mickey was right, he did get too attached, but this felt different- and he could never tell Mickey that, because Terry fucking won. He always won. In the distance he heard some shouting, it sounded familiar- wait, it was Lip. He knew it was Lip because the word “Cunt” was being thrown around, just like Lip did.

 

Sick throbbing up in his throat he stepped up, and waltzed over to the rude awakening of Lip's voice. His blurry eyes noticed Mandy, she had tears in her eyes from what he could see; either that, or it was his own tears. The buzz of the drink was way to heavy to even wonder further with that question. From what he heard it was about Karen, and even though he hated the girl- Lip did have a point to what he was saying, but that wasn't what Ian had on his mind.

 

Leaning heavily against his brother he slurred his way through a confession, “He did it. He fucking did it Lip.” Lip jolted his face around to Ian, frowning towards him as he spoke. Mandy narrowed her eyes, worry rivalling up her body as Ian didn't look like Ian, at all. “He got married, to a  _woman._ ” He rolled the word “woman” testing it out like a boxer against a punching bag. He didn't want to believe it, the words sounded uncanny. Yet, everyone was looking around confused to what he was saying, surely everyone must be as angry, as confused and utterly distraught as he was? 

 

Lip pulled his arm up to grip at Ian's shoulder, not wanting him to slump to the floor like Frank would do at 10am each morning. It sent a shiver up his spine at how much Ian resembled Frank when he was drunk, not in a way that he would punch the fuck out of everyone, but he would blurt out everything that was nibbling at his mind, telling the whole world what they didn't need to know. “Ian, I told you not to come”

 

Ian let out a maniacally laugh before frowning intensely at Lip. “You try sittin' on your fuckin' ass while the person you love- wait, the person you've been fuckin' gets married to some commie fuckin' skank”, his voice was slow and dangerous. A dark side that almost everyone had never experienced from Ian. Just as Lip pushed him away, knowing that if he didn't get him home the whole parade would probably kill him, Ian lobbed his cup through the air his voice cracking with its shout, “FUCKING COMIE SKANK!” just before he hit the door, Mandy's eyes connected with shock.

 

As soon as they hit fresh air, Lip slammed him up to the nearest wall; he hands fisting collar of Ian's coat. “What the fuck Ian? I told you not to come!” he could smell the alcohol on his little brother, it was still visible in the corner of Ian's lips.

 

“Fuck off Lip! You can't say shit, you were in there raging at your cunt of a fucking girlfriend- who is crazy may I add.” He pointed failing to keep his ground against the wall, he laughed loud and clear; it echoing against the music from inside of the alibi. Without thinking about it Lip punched his square in the face, wincing as Ian dropped to the floor with a thud. It felt painful seeing how easy it was to do that, he never knew alcohol could break Ian as much as it did.

Pulling him up, he pushed him off into the direction of the Gallagher house. “She's meant to be your best friend, so shut the fuck up.” Ian had stopped in the middle of the path, his hand wrongly trying to hold his bleeding nose. “Go home Ian. Lock the doors when you get in, you know about the guys that are fucking after me- if they get in, they can get to you and I ain’t cleaning up your fucking blood.”

 

Ian had forgotten the whole rampage of drug dealers thing, he never thought it was that important. Lip had told him about it a couple of days back  _I kinda stole their shit from them._ He did put it as if he wasn't doing anything wrong.  _They don't take that shit lightly, so when Fiona and the kids are away we gotta be extra careful._ Ian had shrugged it off completely, hoping that Lip would sort it before Fiona went away. He had tried to tell Mickey, but the wedding was just too much to even compensate his problems. He never understood why he would be in trouble, but he guessed that if he didn't want to get punched again he had to nod in agreement. 

 

“Good, now fucking go- anyone comes by you ring me, ya hear?” Lip pointed, already walking in the opposite direction. Ian groaned because Lip usually would of made sure he was home safe, probably tuck him in he could, but since the shit went down with Karen and Mandy his mind had been elsewhere. Stumbling against the road he struggled to make his way back to the Gallagher house. The door was locked as he tried to turn the handle, so he fumbled helplessly in his pockets to find the keys. Going through the struggled task of turning the key, which he never really remembered doing _ever_ to get into the Gallagher house, he chucked them onto the sofa.

 

_Fuck the door. Fuck Lip. Fuck Mickey. Fuck everything._ He thought to himself, pulling the doors of the cupboards in the kitchen to try retrieve any abandoned alcohol he could drown himself in. With the pounding in his ears, he couldn't even recognise the sheer silence that was unusual in the Gallagher house. His bleeding nose was blocked with dry blood, each time he breathed it made a sharp whistle. Shrugging with sadness, from not finding any of Fiona's emergency stash, he pulled himself up the stairs slowly, peeling his jacket off in the process. Once in bed he felt himself go under into darkness, his eyes barely able to blink open any more, so it let it take him. He hoped that maybe his eyes would just give up, with his body, and let him stay in the darkness. 

 

 

Ian's eyes pried open suddenly, he had heard a loud creak from under his room. Groaning with the beginning of his hangover already kicking in, he glanced at his phone chucked to the side of him. “Fuckin' seriously”, It was 2am, he was not getting up for that shit, he just guessed it was rats because since Frank had been hanging around the rats were following. He quickly glanced at himself, taking in what a mess he was; he was lying on top of the covers, still wearing his clothes and shoes, but fuck it, his limbs were too tired to move. Just as he closed his eyes, and felt sleep take over him, the creak echoed through the house once more. 

 

“What the fuck is that.” He mumbled to himself, turning his head towards the door to see if it was just Lip hanging around in the door way. Despite the darkness of the hall way, he couldn't make out any shadows so obviously it was coming from downstairs. It sounded like Lip was purposely making noise, and maybe Ian needed to move because his legs felt like he was sticking to the sheets. 

 

Sluggishly he pulled himself up, the sick resting in his throat. Rubbing his stomach he swung his legs over the side of the bed, carefully planting himself onto the floor. The bang shook him up more, it sounded like a drop of a brick or even someone hitting a hard surface. Tilting his head he tried to pry his ears to listen for more ; maybe decipher where the bang was coming from. Giving up he headed for the stairs, dragging his feet behind him because the alcohol was just brewing in his head; mixing with the sore emotion of rejection and helplessness. 

 

His step was about to take place before he heard a couple of hushed voices. At first it made him jolt up, he had turned his body so it was hiding behind the wall of the stairs. He had no idea why he was in that position, because it was obviously just Lip. Then the voices grew louder, as If they wanted to be heard- or they just didn't know he was there. 

 

“Will you stop fuckin' around, Jesus Christ.” One of them whispered, he sounded English and there was a hundred percent chance that wasn't a Gallagher. He then heard a bellowed laugh, it was gruff. 

 

“I'm fuckin' bored, what are we even doing here?” This voice was softer, the same accent but he seemed younger. Ian had no idea why they were casually just talking at his house, but intended to find out. The stairs looked way to tackling once he looked, his head was still spinning and he could hardly make out each step. Whoever these guys were he couldn't just make a grand entrance and not expect a beating. 

 

As he listened in further he heard a heavy sigh of the first man, another laugh eloping from somewhere else. “The boss said we gotta wait here till someone gets home. You fuckin' know how much that rat Gallagher has taken from us?” There was a silence, he guessed the other two were thinking. It matched his own, Lip had never told him who he had stolen off, never mind what. Yet, they didn't know he was there and maybe if he was quiet enough they would leave and just get Lip in their own time. 

 

“I heard it was over 10k.” Once voice suggested, one that he hadn't heard previously. His heard pounded and the blood drained from his skin as the number was called out. That was sure as hell a lot of money, so where the fuck was Lip hiding it? He felt himself slumping once again, the buzz in his head frantically turning into paranoia. 

 

“No, I'm sure it was 1 Million.” The other questioned, sounding more confident that the other. Ian bit his lip, not sure what to do with this situation. Sure, he could call the police but at what cost? These men were probably professionals, whatever they were, and would kill him before he dialled the number. Plus, they would probably hear him slurring and trying to get his words out, and it would still end in homicide.

 

A slap echoed through the air causing Ian to jump. “You fuckin' idiots, why the hell do I have to babysit your asses? He stole the codes, if he stole money do you think the boss would assign us a kidnap mission?” he heard another slap, the hiss clear as day to his ears. His heart sped up once he heard “Kidnap”, he was in their range, Lip had warned him; gave him a fucking key, and yet through his stubbornness he wasn't even able to lock the door like he should of. However, if he just hid they could just leave; they wouldn't even know he was there. 

 

Sneaking back to his room he left the ear shot of the conversation, he looked around the room intensely trying to locate a spot he could hide in for a few hours. They would probably get bored and want to roam and he couldn't just lie there for them to get him. All he could think of was horror clichés, and hiding under the bed was his only option. So there he was, lying breathlessly under Carl's bunk bed, boxes digging into his hips, little bits of sharp objects digging into his back. He just hoped that Carl had stashed one of his weapons underneath there, so if any shit did happen he could protect himself. 

 

For the next couple of minutes he heard clanging of pans; smashes of glasses, laughing from the men which sounded intended and annoying. All drop of an object made him flinch against the floor, he wasn't looking forward to looking at the planks of wood holding the mattress up for much longer. Then he felt his back pocket buzz, he wasn't entirely sure what the hell it was; he could hardly move without hitting his head off the wood above him. It was probably one of Liam's toys, it was probably going to give him away- start singing some nursery rhyme so loud that they would hear it in a second. 

 

It wasn't. It was his phone he had obliviously pocketed when he had walked to the stairs, and name on the screen disappeared as quickly as he wished it not too. It was Mandy, but when he tried dialling back the rings carried on into voice mail. That was It, he was fucked now. Then Lips words came crashing back, distracting him from the even louder bang from down below.  _Anyone comes by you ring me_ . So he pressed onto Lips name, pressing the phone to his ear and awaited for him to answer. But the tone kept on going, the endless ring was agitating his skin; the anticipation making him itch all over. He didn't answer, he tried again. Still, nothing. He felt helpless now, if they came upstairs he would straight in their view and he was too drunk, too broken, too fucking weak to even push them off. Yes he had his training, but alcohol weaken his bones- he couldn't just get rid of that. 

 

There was creak from the stairs, as if someone stepped up onto the first step. Ian bit his lip, biting away his cry that suddenly wanted to burst out. Looking at his contacts he only had one more person he could ring now. Mickey. He clicked dial, his ears peaking up at the continuous creaking getting closer. The ringing kept going, the noise fading as he was sick of hearing it, until- 

 

“What the fuck do you want Gallagher? You ain't meant to call me.” Mickey's voice was rough from sleep, his tone a little raspy. Ian sighed a breath of relief, at least if he was going to die he would have a witness. However, just hearing Mickey's voice sometimes made him feel safe; it calmed him down most of time, even if he did rival him up about. Suddenly he noticed that he hadn't answered Mickey, and his answer was just shattered breaths with a couple of winces. It came to his realisation that maybe Mickey would just hang up and he would have no one to actually ring, and ask for help. 

 

He heard Mickey groan in annoyance and the phone moving around a bit, “Seriously I don't have time for this shit, what the fuck is your problem?” Then he heard intake and exhaling of breath and he could of guessed Mickey was having a smoke. Diverting his gaze to the floor he palmed the phone as he listened for the creaking of the stairs. It had stopped luckily, so through his harsh breaths he answered Mickey; voice croaking like some bitch. 

 

 

“There's someone in my house” He whispered, so quietly that he was scared he might have to repeat himself. Clenching his eyes shut, he shuddered under the loud creak escaping the stairs. Mickey laughed at the other end of the phone, coughing as he choked on a bit of smoke. 

 

Ian frowned, not sure what the fuck was funny; he could die soon. Even though the terror of what was happening surely ran through his veins, he could sense himself slurring from all the vodka he had been drinking. “What- What’s so fuckin' funny?” he was getting anxious now, he nearly raised his voice and in this stupid house your voice would bounce off the walls. Another creak,another hushed voice he heard from his position under the bed;.

 

“Are you fuckin' drunk? There is _always_ someone in your house.” He laughed again, his voice darker this time. Ian breathed in deeply, trying to control himself from freaking out. Of course Mickey wouldn't take it seriously, he didn't have to worry about someone breaking into his house; he had Terry there to kill them, he didn't have to hide under some bed like a little pussy. Fuck, Ian was crying again. He felt the tears silently make their way down his cheeks, he smacked his head off the floor a couple of times to make sense of what to do. 

 

Preparing himself, discarding the nearby creak he whispered quieter. “No, Mickey there is  _someone_ else in my house. I don't- I- shit.” He nearly broke in the last words, he had no idea why he was suddenly so scared; maybe the alcohol had destroyed his strength to go against things head on; or maybe just hearing Mickey's voice weakened him because he knew he might not hear it again; maybe it was just because getting kidnapped wasn't the most exiting event to happen. 

 

He heard a rustle on the other end of the phone, “You fuckin' crying Gallagher? When did you loose your balls?” He was still taking it as a joke, and yeah maybe Ian was a joke; but he still needed some help getting out of there. Suddenly he heard a closer voice, not from Mickey's end of the line. 

 

“I swear I heard somethin' from up here” One of them said, his feet visible to Ian's eyes. He clamped his hand over his mouth, trying to muffle down his shaking teeth and uttered breaths. They walked closer to the bed, one of them walking over to the window to secure it was locked. 

 

“Stop fuckin' around, Miles go check the other rooms; I swear Freddie if we find a basturding rat your dead meat.” That was the voice of the first one he head heard, he wasn't too excited to see more of him. He hoped to God that they did just find a rat and be over with; go downstairs and leave till another time they had the chance. Once they left the room, he focused on the brightness of his phone screen once he picked it up. Surprisingly Mickey was still there. 

 

“Mickey?” He muttered, panicking that he might be left alone again. It rose in his chest,and he kicked his foot to the side trying to feel for any stray weapons Carl might have hid between the masses of shit cluttered under it. A noise escaped his throat as his foot want to far and nearly stuck itself in awkward spot, then he heard Mickey yawn loudly against the phone. 

 

“Who the fuck is Miles? If you are ringing me during your gang bang' that you can just fuck off.” He mumbled, he could tell Mickey was on the verge of sleep; he had no idea that guys were there to kidnap Ian not fuck him. “Even if I wanted to come join, my dad is on my ass like a hawk; so, stop fuckin' calling, or your dead meat too.” That was it, the line went dead and the tone beeped louder that it should in his ear. His heart dropped, and he wanted to vomit more than anything. He kept the phone clasped to his ear, anger building up but slowly turning into panic. 

 

Just as he accepted his blind fate, he placed his phone beside him. The footsteps were slowly fading out and at one point he felt like that they finally were leaving. Until, his phone buzzed incredibly loud against the floor; he looked at the caller I.D,it was Mickey. Why the hell he was ringing back, he had no clue; all he had to do was shut it up. Trying to muffle the sound he knew it wasn't going to work, so he answered. 

 

“Mickey?” This time he didn't bother whispering, the footsteps were heavy coming up, just like they were running. Their hushed voices were clearer and commanding, he felt it all crash down at once. Shit, he had forgotten the most logical reason why he should of just left the phone; he had answered it, and they knew that then there must be someone in the house. 

They all crashed into the room, pulling up clothes in corners, lifting up covers to see if anyone was hiding. He heard a mumbled from Mickey but by the time it was in ear shot, he felt his legs getting dragged out from the bed. “MICKEY!” he screamed, but when he opened his eyes up to his intruder all he saw was darkness; they were wearing black masks, with black clothing, he swore one of them even had a suit on. As he tried to fight back, one of them held down his wrists; they were strong that was for sure, stronger than he had trained for. 

 

Turning his head, he still saw the light from the phone; Mickey was still on the line. One, he was sure was called Miles, caught his direction and stomped violently against its screen until it was in two. With his wrists steel sealed, he squirmed underneath them. 

 

“So we taking him to the Boss?” Miles asked, his face incredibly close to Ian's. As soon as he tried to release the grasp, The other guy, Freddie, kicked him directly into the ribs knocking the full force of wind out of him. “We gotta sedate him or some shit, he's stronger than we expected.” 

 

“What the fuck do you want!” Ian dared to scream, his ribs aching like the bones holding them together were all crushed. Nothing could be as worse as this day, a part of him told him that maybe this was for the best; he had nothing anyway. However, when the taller one strode his mask off and leaned down so he was crouching, he felt more terror than he could imagine. 

 

The man had cuts up the left side of his cheek; deep enough to look like gashes. His lip was busted, and a black ring surrounded his eye; it didn't stop him from smirking down at Ian, checking him out from head to toe. “Don't ask stupid fuckin' questions.”He gripped at Ian's hair, lifting his head back so his neck was facing up. “Freddie, the needle?” He palmed his hand out. He felt Miles rip the fabric from his shirt, then pushing it into Ian's mouth as a gag; he gipped at the deepness of the material in his mouth, trying to push it out with a failed attempt.

 

Ian watched in the corner of his eye, trying to do his best to squirm away from the liquid about to be inserted into him. He watched as the man popped the cap off, the lid landing god knows where, he filled the needle in a bottle full of white liquid, watching it as it rose to the top. Ian bit his lip, trying to plan a last minute escape. With one little squirm his felt the cold needle dart into the skin of his neck, the liquid pouring into his skin; he felt his eyes droop quickly, his head spinning like it did only a couple hours before. He felt like he had drunk another bottle of Vodka and had a couple of joints on the way; however, it made everything blurry. The three faces above him were fading, one still smirking as his head felt limp against the floor. 

 

Before the darkness took him, he heard the solemn words. “Tie him up and put him in the trunk. We gotta go.” 

 

 

 

 


	2. Technically, Missing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The morning after, Lip and Mandy make a few discoveries- they are still not sure if Ian has done a runner or has just plain left in the middle of the night

The sun was burning his skin; he was sure of it. After Ian's blast off the night before he was still recovering from his huge dosage of alcohol. The room he was in was stifling warm, he felt his body sticking to the sheets; and not in a good way. Once his eyes opened up, he recognised the room all at once. He guessed from all the ranting and raging last night he was going to at least fuck Mandy or Karen, by the looks of things he went for Mandy.

 

“I was just a sleazy fuck, right?” Mandy rolled the words off her tongue, Lip turned around abruptly; taking in the sight of them both completely naked. He didn't nod and he didn't disagree because he had to admit that his mind was all over the fucking place, and to be honest he didn't really remember it. Mandy took a long drag from her cigarette, offering it to Lip; to where he could smell it wasn't a fag but a joint.

 

Lip got up way to quickly, he could feel his legs telling him to buckle; it was obvious they didn't go gentle that night. The air hit his head all at once and he nearly fell, but he stood his ground with the help of the nearby table. He could feel Mandy bore holes in his back with her eyes; but he didn't choose to care, because he did that once and it went to shit. “Nah, I gotta go check up on Ian.” Which he really did need to do, God knows what the house was going to look like after his rampage at the party.

 

Mandy chucked him his pants, putting out her smoke. “Did you know about him and Mickey?” She asked calmly, the tone of her voice scaring Lip a little but he carried on trying to find all he had left of his belongings. He wanted to ignore that question entirely because Ian could do his own dirty work; it wasn't his doing that Mandy didn't know. Maybe, yeah he could of let her in with a hint but he was not risking having Mickey kill his ass.

 

“I may have had an idea.”He mumbled, awkwardly glancing around for his top; which was hanging from the edge of the bed. Mandy stepped up pulling a long shirt over her chest, and rubbed underneath her nose.

 

“What the fuck Lip!” She burst into a shout, she knocked over a couple of bottles scattering her room; trying to repress her anger and hurt that she was starting to feel. “Shit like that doesn't just pop into your head, did Ian tell you?” She furthered herself into his bubble, her nose flaring as she expressed how she was truly feeling. All through the night it had been niggling on her mind, she couldn't just bypass it like it another fuck in the neighbour hood.

 

Lip stopped mid putting his shoes on to capture her glare, “Of course he fuckin' told me, I'm his brother!” he fought back, trying to barge past her so he could get to his other shoe. Mandy wasn't giving up and started to reach for her own clothes chucking them on as he did. “Why don't you ask your own fucking brother why he didn't tell you, huh?” Lip carried on, he always knew seeing Mandy would end up in a argument.

 

“The last time I checked Mickey wanted to kill Ian, he doesn't tell me Jack shit!” Mandy flapped her arms against her sides, still not acting defeated. “I didn't even know he liked fucking guys, never mindIan!” She continued to rabbit at Lips ear, telling her piece of mind as he tried to recollect himself. He wanted to shut her up, God knows who could be standing outside the door listening in.

 

Soon they both were dressed, Lip had no idea where Mandy was planning on going, but he didn't really need to care; if this shit was going to go down he needed to get to Ian first. “Well, he does. I gotta go back and stop Ian from following his fucking dream and getting his leg shot off; all because your brother is too pussy to admit who he is. So if you will let me be.” He tried stepping by her, but her hand shot itself onto his chest pushing him back before he could reach the door.

 

“I'm coming with you.” She gritted through her teeth, shrugging on a jacket he was sure was Ian's. She pulled it around her self and nodded her head towards the shut door. Lip didn't budge and gave her a questioning look, he knew that today would just be another argumentative shit day; it always was when people kept secrets. He remembered finding out about Ian and Kash, just by their shoes, and he and Ian battered each other over it.

 

“Why? So you can bite his head off?” Lip snapped back, reaching into his back pocket for his fags. He sighed in relief as he lit it and inhaled the smoke; he needed this, he deserved this. Mandy quickly retrieved the cancer stick out of his mouth, replacing her own lips around it. From what he could see her fingers were shaking.

 

After a couple of drags she passed it back, letting the smoke come out of her nose. “My best friend is fucking my brother, I want answers.” Is all she answered before she slammed the door open and stormed through the Milkovich house. Lip followed, nodding towards the other Milkoviches who were occupying themselves in the kitchen. All of them were there besides Mickey, Terry was even spread eagle along the couch with a beer bottle resting in his limp hand.

 

“Where's the newly wed's?” Mandy scoffed noticing the sheer absence of a spitting Russian and her loud-mouthed brother. It felt weird even asking that, now she _knew._ All the others turned to her voice, Tony and Colin tucking themselves back into their eggs and bacon. Iggy grinned towards them, a piece of bacon fat in the corner of his mouth.

 

“Probably having their honey moon fuck, that's what they call it right?” He indulged himself into another conversation with his brothers, not noticing Mandy and Lip leaving the house with a loud door slam. Lip was off like a rocket, already jumping over the gate and speeding down the road. With a groan Mandy caught up, pulling at his shoulder so he would slow down.

 

“Jesus. Fuck, would you slow down?” She gasped, trying to catch his space. He turned with a glare but obeyed a little to her plead and stopped walking like he had a firecracker up his ass. He didn't want to really speak to her right now, he still hadn't forgotten the whole Karen situation. “So how long you know they've been fucking?” she asked casually, her hands gripping the inside of her pockets.

 

Lip rolled his neck, not wanting to talk about his brothers dick being in another guy; but fuck it. “I dunno, since he tried to get his gun back I guess.” He glanced to his side, but then head on to the Gallagher house. Mandy kept quiet up until they got to the stairs to the house.

“Wait- so they were fuckin' when he was hanging out with me? How the fuck.” Mandy was baffled, through her and Ian's friendship she had never sensed that him and Mickey were fucking; but there was the times that Ian would be in the bathroom for over 5 minutes, or the way that they would raise an eyebrow to each other when they thought she wouldn't notice. Never mind the slightly weird friendship they had, Ian would always blow her off for Mickey; she never got it, but she had Lip to fill the space. Whenever she had brought Ian up in a conversation Mickey had pushed her off the chair or twisted her nipple to shut her up. It was all so crafty, all under her nose; why the fuck didn't Ian say anything. “Oh my god.” She made a disgusted noise from her throat.

 

Lip twisted, patting his pockets for the set of keys he swore he had hold of. Mandy went pale, her hand gripping to the door in front of them. “What? Hangover starting to kick in?” He laughed, remembering that the reason he didn't have the keys was because he had given them to Ian to shut the door with.

 

“I have been giving Ian tips to fuck my brother.” She shook her head, “He's been telling me how he fucks Mickey, _my brother.”_ She looked like she was going to puke, but for some reason she didn't mind it that much. It was her best friend, she couldn't just jilt him for fucking her brother; no matter how grim she feels listening about Ian slamming into Mickey in the back of the Kash N' Grab.

Lip patted her shoulder reassuringly with a smug smile on his lips. “Well your tips are obviously good if Mickey keeps going back for that dick, right?”Mandy punched his chest sending him backwards into the front door.

 

Knocking his fist against the door, they both looked up to Ian's and the others bedroom window. “Hey, Ian! Open the fuckin' door.” There was no answer, no window opening to tell him to shut the fuck up; it was all a bit weird, but he guessed Ian must have had a horrific hangover to not get out of bed after noon. “Hey, Ian you lazy pri-” just as he shouted, Mandy pushed the door open, he frowned at her as she walked through. “How the fuck?”

 

“Since when did you ever knock to go into your own house- Hey Ian!” She was stood at the bottom of the stairs, leaning against the wall just by them. Lip stared confused looking back and forth against the door and Mandy; he was sure he had told Ian to lock the door. He had told him directly, with command, to lock the doors in case the dealers happened to stop by and intrude. “What the fucks your problem?” Mandy spat, making her way up the steps impatiently.

 

“The door wasn't locked?” Lip questioned, shutting the door and immediately following Mandy upstairs to find Ian. However, once they both were at their destination, no one was too be seen. Both he and Mandy bumped into each other as they tried to squeeze through Ian and Carl’s bedroom at the same time.

 

“Who the fuck locks their door around here?” Mandy rose her eyebrow, huffing once she found that this room was also empty. “Hey shitbag, where the fuck you hiding?” She thought that Ian was just hiding away from his problems, or something worse. So she pushed the bathroom door open, nothing. Pushed open Debbie's room, still nothing. Fiona's- Still nothing. Lip even swept a look underneath all the beds still to find no redhead at all.

 

Lip collapsed onto Ian's bed, groaning as it hit him why Ian wasn't there. “He's done a fuckin' runner.” He felt the bed dip as Mandy joined him lighting up a cigarette between her lips. He felt guilt rush through him; he didn't come quick enough to stop him from enlisting, he had been talking about it for months; on and off whether to actually do it, and now- he'd obviously gone and done it.

 

“Do you blame him? All that screaming last night I guess he hasn't been havin' a best time of his life recently.” Mandy nodded, even though he was her best friend and she was worried to fuck about where he was; she knew he was sensible,well she hoped. She hoped he wasn't balls deep in some sleazy fucker like usual, well except her brother of course, but that- she didn't want to get into. She offered Lip the cigarette feeling him willingly take if from her with a sigh.

 

Lip scoffed as the smoke fled from his nose, “Yeh, and the army is _so_ much better. He's a fucking idiot that's what he is.” He tapped his foot against the wall, looking up to the ceiling at the yellowed plaster from all the smoking he and Ian would sneakily do. Once he thought about it, he missed that little shit already. He felt Mandy imitate his actions, her hand sweeping to take the cigarette back, he gave it her back.

 

“So he really did it, huh?” Mandy sighed, feeling Lips head nod against her arm. “Damn, I was really looking forward to grilling his ass about keeping him and Mickey a secret.” Lip snorted next to her, following her own laugh with a shrug of a shoulder. “Hey, you know what? Imma write a fucking letter, soldiers get mail don't they- well this is going to be a good read.” She laughed pulling herself up off the bed to find some paper and a pen. Lip was continuously laughing, leaning up on his elbows as Mandy began her search.

 

“Seriously, there is like a million of you, how do you not have one fucking pen.” She complained, pulling out drawers and rampaging through endless t-shirts that she found partially weird; because wouldn't Ian need those? Discarding the thought she carried on, her hand going under the bed; she retrieved Ian's porn magazine and immediately flung it into Lip's direction before she felt any stickiness she didn't want to feel.

 

Lip chucked the magazine away from the bed, his reaction more delayed than he wished. “That was not cool. His jizz is probably making its own family in there.” he leant over the side of the bed, Mandy was still struggling to even find any paper. She got off her knees and walked over to Carl’s bed, wondering if that physco had any paper.

 

Jackpot, Carl maliciously had some paper stashed at the side of his bed, she found a shitty pen on the table by Liam's cot so she stole it, and waltzed back over to Lip with a smug look on her face. Well, that was until she felt something crush underneath her boot. It wasn't a crisp because that shit wasn't soft; it felt like it pierced her foot, that was how hard it was. “What the fuck is that?” She grimaced down at her feet, it rose to her attention that Lip can caught on and was intrigued to know too.

 

She lifted her boot and saw the crushed transparent tube-like plastic on the floor. “Since when did you guys do heroin?” She picked the shard plastic from the floor, playing with it between her fingers. She utterly forgot the fiasco of the letter writing and sat at the end of the bed just by Lips feet. Lip passed her a confused look, snatching the fag resting her lips back.

 

“We don't, unless Carl does then maybe.” Lip questions, not really knowing what Mandy was getting at. He was too interested in creating new shapes out of the smoke from his cigarette; and trying to make up idea's to pry Ian back from the army. He heard Mandy tut from his side, he rested back up on his elbows, putting out the fag so he could take a look at what she had found.

 

She chucked it at him, the plastic landing against his chest. “Don't act coy you dick, I know the tops of needles when I see em', my brothers always have they scattered around the house whenever they need a fix.” She laughed to herself before going on. “Maybe Fiona is hitting the harder stuff...ya know, instead of coke?” she suggested it, but she knew she had taken a wrong turn in that direction. Lip flipped her off and fiddled with it within his palm, he had never seen it before and he _knew_ Fiona had stopped that shit.

 

“No, She wouldn't risk loosing us again to that group home. Maybe Carl had bumped up his torture with lethal injections.” He chucked the plastic onto the side table, discarding any other thoughts to it, until once again Mandy jumped up from the bed over to the spot where she had stood on the plastic. He didn't know what Sherlock bullshit she was playing, but it just wasn't funny any more. “What is it?”

 

“Is that-” She had caught it in the corner of her eye, the familiar fluff on the hood of the coat Ian was wearing the night before. She _knew_ that coat, obviously she did, he wore it most of the time he was freezing his ass off; she was even sure she had worn it once or twice. It was pushed under the bed, scrunched up in a disorderly fashion. Jolting up with a rise of panic, because Ian never went anywhere without that thing, she pulled it out from under the bed. “It this Ian's coat?” she lifted it by the hood, a thump against the ground as something fell from it.

 

“Hold up, is that his phone?” Lip stood now, taking in the evidence Mandy had pulled out. Going over the black crushed up metal on the floor, he just knew it was Ian's phone. The sticker Ian had insisted was cool was still plastered on the back, the American flag only having a couple of stars left as the back was snapped into two. “Why the hell would he just leave this here?”

 

Mandy squinted at the metal, then back to the coat. This was heavier than weird, Ian would always have these things on him- especially if he was running away. “Why is it smashed up? even I know Ian wouldn't smash up his phone.” She glanced around the room again, hoping to find anything that could possibly help them understand why he had suddenly left without a coat or a phone; or why he would leave at all. With her glance she noticed ripped up fabric from Ian's blue plaid shirt; something she knew he was wearing the night before.

 

“You two been shredding your clothes, or is this just screaming weird?” Mandy lifted the ripped piece of shirt up into the light. Lip eyed the phone then looked between the stray coat and plaid material. It all wasn't making sense, the house seemed up to state-apart from the glass by the stairs that he forgot to even register; why would Ian randomly escape the house and leave behind the weirdest of things.

 

“This is screaming fucked up, why would Ian just leave this shit.” He rubbed at his scalp, wishing that his genius skills would come up with an explanation, he wanted to just shrug it off just say that Ian was too reckless and out of his mind to even care about the rest of his valuable belongings; but it didn't seem right. The plastic, the random shredded fabric, a smashed up phone; it wasn't just a coincidence. “I have an idea.” Lip dropped the objects onto the bed, rummaging through his own coat and pockets without sharing with Mandy.

 

“Oh, please feel free to fucking share, people are worried here?” She slumped the coat in the crook of her arm, her breath feeling heavy as the whole situation had become suddenly uptight. Maybe they were just looking too much into it, Ian had probably ran because he wanted to rid of all the shit there, they were just assuming the worst, right?

 

“I'm gonna put his SimCard in my phone, maybe we can check who his last call was to.” Lip suggested already peeling the back of his phone to place in Ian's Sim. Once in, he struggled to press the on button without shaking, it was all too tense to think about, when there were some things that _could_ of happened to Ian that he didn't even want to think about.

 

Mandy scoffed, walking over with the coat still slung in her arm. “Oh, Look at fuckin' Sherlock Holmes over there, what you gonna do next swipe for prints?” He couldn't honestly find out where Ian was just by his last call, for all he knew it was probably to him and then they both would be fucked. “Lip, are we not just overreacting here? He might have gone to that dick Ned; we don't know that shit.” She sighed heavily, she didn't want to assume the worse; whatever that was. She watched as the noise from Lips phone vibrated out.

 

“What and just leave his phone? How the fuck would he _even_ get in touch with Ned without this.” he made a valid point, but none of them actually knew what was going on in Ian's mind; for all they knew he could be having a breakdown and these things left were the remains of it. He clicked onto the call log, a ray of names came springing up. He even saw his own name; Ian had rang it over a couple of times, as well as Mandy. “Mickey.” he said as he saw the name, it had the longest time on the phone and was at the top of the list.

 

Mandy grabbed the phone, “Mickey was his last call?” Nothing was really piecing together besides Mickey and Ian being an item. She couldn't possibly think of why Ian would be ringing Mickey at 2 in the morning; but at least they had a time where he was still here. “So he was still here at 2am, where the fuck would he go to at 2am?”

 

Lip bit at his cuticles, his mind cutting to various conclusions. “I don't know, but whatever happened their second call was only ten seconds long, it looks like it was cut off.” It was pretty damn weird, but maybe Ian was just getting frustrated with Mickey's attitude, that Lip had warned him about. Or maybe his phone had died and it cut it off when the screen went off, the strange thing was Mickey had called Ian back, it was a inward call; why would Mickey ring Ian back, with the risk of Terry on his back?

“So, that must be when he smashed it?” Mandy put the point in, standing up and pacing around the floor. It all sounded reasonable, and maybe Ian was just planning on running away. What else could it be? “Mickey has a way with words, I bet he made him angry.”

 

Lip nodded, the explanation seeming on point and actually making sense; the only thing that didn't was that Ian wouldn't do that, he was merely fallen for Mickey; he wouldn't just cut off a phone call for a petty argument, not when Mickey had rang him. “Ian was like a love-sick puppy when it came to Mickey, he wouldn't just fuck up a chance to talk to him; believe me.” And he wouldn't, Ian would of wanted to speak his mind to Mickey; tell him how he was feeling, because he had that bullshit trait that made him wanna speak about  _everything_ with the expectation that people will feel the same way. 

 

“We're home!” The shout echoed up the stairs followed by a rustle of carnage and noise. The door had slammed and Lip could already hear bickering from his younger siblings. “Hey! Lip, Ian?!” she shouted again, by the croak in her throat he could tell it was Fiona, by the sounds of it she was more than worn out.

 

Lip and Mandy exchanged looks, what were they going to say? Lip pushed up to the floor chucking the phone into Mandy's arm, with the thin piece of fabric. He began then to search for his strayed piece of plastic that they had found. “Right, you tell her.”

 

“You fucking tell her, he's your brother.” she shoved the collection back into his chest giving him a are-you-fucking-serious look, because lets face it they both knew Fiona would have their asses if they let Ian just get away. “You were meant to be with him, so..” she started to walk towards the door, laughing as Lip got all flustered and annoyed.

 

“Fuck you, I was pounding your ass; so we are equally responsible for this.” He followed her to the door, gulping as he wasn't sure how to word that Ian had ran away; with no phone, no coat and obviously no spare clothes to change in. Fiona was going to go on a rampage, and Lip knew he might have to explain the whole drug dealer gone-wild to kill Lip situation. “Shit.” He then realised what this might be, Mandy twisted to his curse but they were suddenly, rudely, interrupted by Debbie who came pounding up the stairs.

 

“Oh Hey Mandy, I didn't know you would be here.” She smiled that sweet innocent smile, but she wasn't stupid she could sense something was off. Lip was swaying with a clutter in his hands but it didn't look to bad so she gave him a questioning look before sighing on the spot. If they told her she would totally freak out, probably order a search party with fucking banners and everything.

 

Mandy put her arm around her shoulder, knowing this was a way to get out of speaking with Fiona, “What's up?” She could see Debbie wasn't too happy, and she hoped it wasn't because she somehow worked out her brother was missing.

 

“Bitches at school, stupid guys, you know the drill” She mumbled, eyeing Lip as he began to get even more fidgety; she could tell her was hiding something, she just didn't know what yet. Mandy patted her hair, sending Lip a smug look she ushered Debbie to her room. “You still got that shank knife I gave you, or do you need Carl to knock you one up again?”

 

Lip heard Debbie mumble something back, probably a “Yes” or “I used it on the fucker now he's dead”. He stood their for a moment, the guilt suddenly passing in. He had told Ian specifically to ring him if anyone came by, yet when he did Lip was too busy fucking the lights out of Mandy with blurred vision and a uncontrollable state, that he could not recall. Maybe- No, he couldn't think that not when Fiona needed to be told; he might blurt that shit out and makes matters worse. Mandy sped out of the room for a second, violently whispering with a push to Lips chest, “Go the fuck on, Fiona needs to know.”Then she disappeared into Debbie's room, probably working on more self defence.

 

Slowly he made his way down the creaking stair case, eyeing up the living room to see if Fiona was in there; it was just Liam watching some shitty cartoons. He heard the close of the fridge and the rumble of the washing machine; Fiona was in there, with Carl who was making himself another verified weapon. Fiona spotted him and the clothes and basked a heavy sigh. “Shit, did you want them things washed? I just put the fucker on, I will do it later.” She took them from his hands, not noticing Lip trying to pull it back.

 

“Carl, you been injecting shit into your latest victims; I found this.” Lip planted the plastic on the table before Carl, he watched his younger sibling eye it up but shake his head to say no. Fiona worriedly watched, her eyes widening as she knew what the object was.

 

Carl scoffed like it was the stupidest question he had ever heard, he lifted the plastic then chucked it back down. “No, why would I pre-long their deaths when a cut to the throat is the fastest way possible.” He sounded like a grown serial killer, planning out his next victims- Lip knew giving him those knives was not a good call; especially when Ian started to teach him how to use them. Once Lip and Fiona tried to take them away and he ended up taking the hammer and a pile of string as his new weapons. They felt more safer if he had the knives then going around like the Yorkshire Ripper. Fiona and Lip looked at him with disbelief, “What?”

 

Fiona saw his innocence masked under his sweet smile, but he was still a little shit; with some deep problems towards Next doors pets. “What is that school even teaching you? They have their own skin your animals class or something?” Fiona laughed, going over to the couch so she could lift Liam up onto her hip. Lip was still watching the plastic with determination to find out what the hell it was, either Ian injection some shit into his body; or some drug dealers were living in their bedroom. Wait- Drug Dealers, could it?

 

“Man, I wish their was.” Carl sighed, his voice fading to lip as he tried to work out what was going on. He heard Fiona laugh with a silent scoff, “Oh you would.” then it went quieter. Carl was sharpening his knife, very slowly and the sound was going right through him. Liam was babbling on Fiona's hip as she swayed making some mac and cheese. He heard laughing from upstairs, he knew that giggle was Mandy by her boom of voice. Why was no one asking for Ian, did they already know?

 

“So, where's Ian? He rang me last night, he sounded pretty shaken.” Fiona asked Lip, shocking him out of his trance, he shot up when he heard Ian had rang her. She held a bottle of juice for Liam, one that he couldn't go without screaming. Lip still hadn't answered, his eyes flickering back to the plastic on the table, the smashed up phone; _everything._ “Lip, you alright?” She had noticed his sharpness of breath, his eyes trying so hard to work something out.

 

He nodded his head, his hand resting at the back of his neck. “Yeh, I'm good. What did he say?” he was interested now, he wasn't sure what time Ian had rang her but maybe it was before Mickey, and before he had left. He wasn't sure why he was getting so into this; but it didn't seem like something Ian would do, without letting everyone know first.

 

Fiona shifted Liam onto her lap as she sat by Carl, “He was telling be something about enlisting and that he wasn't going to do it, and that when I get back he had something to tell me. God knows what, probably has some boyfriend I need kick up the ass.” She sighed, swatting Liam's hands as he tried to pick up the shard plastic from the table. “So, where is the little shit?”

 

Lip then sat down, he wasn't sure how to explain it to her without rivalling things up and making her freak out; she always freaked out. “That's the thing, I don't know.” He glanced at his hands, then back up to the coat where the phone and piece of left fabric was still laying; maybe he should just explain it to her, then they all could go find Ian.

 

Fiona looked frightened at first, her eyes glazing over; she was the mother hen and when one of them went away she didn't feel herself, like she had let them down. “I thought you were here with him?” She asked cautiously , bobbing Liam up and down on her lap as ate the hem of his hoodie.

 

Biting his lip, he shifted closer feeling even Carl’s eyes go on him now. “Well, I was kinda _busy-”_ He didn't really want to go into detail about how he ditched, he drunk ass brother for a pity fuck at the Milkoviches. But it looked like Fiona clicked on anyway as she nodded; a little disappointment spread across her face but he could deal with that.

 

Carl had clicked on though, he wished he hadn't because now the point he was trying to make was going to take much, much longer. “You were sticking it in Mandy.” He went back to sharpening his knife like he hadn't even said anything; like the saying shit like that was just normal, even though people shagged all over the place in that neighbourhood. Lip smacked the back of his head, yearning to snatch the knife off him and hide it forever.

 

“Shut up you creep, but Yeh.” He confession, turning back to Fiona with a unsure expression on his face. How would she take this, he wasn't entirely sure; because sometimes she would freak out and other times she would say “We can sort this shit out, together” he wasn't sure about this though. “I came back this morning-

 

“With Mandy” Carl interrupted again, giggling to himself. Lip smacked him again, nearly hitting his head off the table; he turned and hit Lip back now knowing that he should probably shut his mouth because even Liam was glaring at him like he was going to get slapped. “Right, I will shut up, Jeez Louise.”

 

Fiona glared at him one more time, and then nodded to Lip for him to carry on; the whole conversation was totally dragging. “He was gone, no note no nothin'” He wasn't sure yet to explain the coat, or the other weird pieces left until he got a reaction from her. If it was bad then he could calm her down first, maybe tell her that he would go out and find her and just leave it to him and Mandy; if she was calmer, then he could tell her; maybe she knew more than he did.

 

She opened her mouth several times, not sure what to say. Carl had stopped his movements and stopped to stare at Lip as well. “He might of just wanted to get out of here for a couple of days, you know he did sound pretty beat up last night; he might just be having a breather from it all.” She rambled on, trying to not let them notice her bouncing leg. It was usual to hear that one of them wasn't in, but Ian had been acting distant recently, coming back with bruises and all sorts all over him; not really saying much but a simple “Hello” and “I'm going out”; He wouldn't say where, and he wouldn't say who with; so she should be worrying, because he wouldn't of said where he was going, even if it was for a couple of days.

 

The chair made a hideous sound as Lip scraped it along the floor, he didn't expect her to take it as if it was Frank or Monica leaving town; or just disappearing, he was expecting her to cry, or to say they would go out searching. “He hasn't just gone and done a fucking runner like Frank or Monica, Fiona. he's _missing,_ missing.” He knew he wasn't explaining himself clearing, and he was just chucking it at her all at once; which wasn't something he could just do without explaining it first.

 

“What do you mean?” Carl spoke up, playing with the edge of his knife as he said it. Lip was standing by the coat, wanting to show them the phone and fabric; should he? Would it just worry them more, he didn't know. Fiona darted her head around, standing up with yet again another horrific sound of a chair scraping. “Yeh what do you mean?” her voice was sharp,like she was angry and wanted to tear something up.

 

Lip picked up the phone, and the piece of fabric noticing the others eyes widening as he lifted it into his palms. “He didn't just fucking leave, he left everything. His coat, clothes, even this-” He showed them the phone, well, what was left out it. Fiona gasped and shifted Liam higher on her hip as she took the phone from him. “He even said to you that he wasn't leaving, so why would he just disappear like that?” he asked her again, knowing she was lost for words and utterly confused what he was showing her this, when Ian was probably just off somewhere letting off some steam.

 

“Maybe he is just out around town, if he's left all of this here he might of just forgot it.” She suggested, it seemed like the most reasonable explanation. Lip nodded, knowing that might be the case; when leaving Mandy's Mickey wasn't actually there, so Ian could of went to see him. But the weather had been beside itself all night, it was too cold not to go with a coat. As dumb as Ian was he wouldn't just go out without a coat, he wore that thing in the hottest of conditions.

 

“What and ripped his shirt on the way?” He pulled up the stray fabric, raising his eyebrows in a gesture of see-what-i-mean. Fiona gripped her, her teeth grinding together, Carl was still inspecting the phone like it had a secret inscription in its cracks. “Please don't say this doesn't look weird to you—Shit. Shit. Shit.” it just popped into his head, he had told Ian to ring him if someone happened to come by, he did. Opening this door he noticed it wasn't locked, and the keys were no where to be seen; a swell as Ian. It could be worse than he thought.

 

“What, what is it?” Fiona suddenly felt her heart beating watching as Lip paced the room chucking cushions up and moving toys out of the way. “What are you looking for?” She followed him to the couch where his hands were pulling at the sides, searching for God knows what; whatever it was, it was serious she could tell.

 

“The keys, where the fuck are the door keys.” He chucked his hands up in defeat, wiping his eyes from his sweat. What if Ian was too fucking stubborn to close the door properly, what if someone _had_ got in and now he had no clue where Ian could be. He didn't know those guys, he didn't know what they could do. Fiona put her hand on his shoulder, still feeling as if there was something important that she was missing, Ian was strangely not there and it was wriggling her mind to know why, and Lip was frantic in finding a set of keys that she didn't even know they had.

 

“I didn't even know we owned house keys.”

 

“I've gotta go find Mickey” Lip pointedly said, snapping up and pulling on a coat he happened to find on the edge of the couch. He struck the phone from Carl's fingers and placed it in his back pocket. Fiona was starstruck, not sure how to stop him, or why he was even going over there when they obviously needed to talk about Ian.

 

She stopped him before he could swing open the door, “Why? We need to find out where Ian is” she pulled Liam off her hip, placing him to the floor so he could crawl around. She jabbed Lip in the chest, her face nearly screwing up; she knew something was off,and Lip was hiding something, she could tell by the way his mouth would twitch upwards. “What the fuck are you not telling me?”

 

“Ian might be in trouble, I've gotta find out.” Lip budged past her, knowing that if he happened to blurt out about Ian's and Mickey's relationship to her Ian might never forgive him because he didn't let him do it himself; and then the shit about the Drug Dealers would just freak her out completely and she would want to stab some fucker in the eye.

 

“Trouble? What kind of Trouble? Lip!” She called after him, pounding down the steps along side him, heart like a rocket because she just didn't understand what was going on; and there was probably a million things hidden from her. “And what does Mickey Milkovich got to do with any of this?!”

 

Lip was nearly across the street down, his legs moving faster than they should. “He just does alright, if you really want to know ask Mandy; I ain’t explaining that shit.” Then he was off around the corner, fast as a light.

 

Shit, Ian was missing. _Missing._ Lip was hiding something, all she had was a coat and some little bits that were weirder than she could imagine. Mickey Milkovich somehow is going to help them and she had to talk to Mandy about shit she obviously was oblivious too. What the fuck is going on.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter hopefully Monday or maybe tomorrow night


	3. Still gone.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is from Ian's POV- next chapter will go back to the others

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SO SO SO SORRY THIS IS A DAY LATE I DIDN'T HAVE A CHANCE TO FINISH IT YESTERDAY AND I DIDN'T WANT TO UPLOAD IT HALF DONE, HERE IT IS THOUGH.

Everything seemed muffled, like his ears were clogged with cotton wool balls and he had been dunked under water. His hands were so tight; something sharp digging into his skin, he wasn't sure if it was a knife or just a cut to his pale flesh. His eyes could barely open, unless they were, all he saw was darkness; an old friend he supposed. He was compressed with the heat, all of his skin rough against the hard surface he lay back on. There was something cool running down his neck; maybe it was water, or blood; either way he needed something to drink down his retching throat.

 

Then it hit him, he wasn't back at his house moping over why Mickey didn't choose him; he was in darkness, with the noise of the road behind him. It was becoming more clear now that he was laid in a truck, he could see pots of paint; various to be infact both white and black. There were scattered plastic wrappers lined with a white substance he didn't want to look further into. Whenever he lifted his head the heavy weight just pushed him back down.

 

Fuel, that's all he could smell. That and a strange odour of rotten meat mixed with a sweet smell that made him want to vomit. The air began to get thicker, the smell getting worse as the noise from outside getting louder. Each second he shook a little with the motion of the surface; by hearing the noises of burning wheels, he knew he was in a car. The panic hadn't yet kicked in but he could feel it brewing in his stomach, but the loud music blasting from the car itself wasn't something he could shout over. Hell, even if he did try to scream he was too tied up in tight as fuck ropes and running away wasn't an option.

 

_Remember the training, Remember how to keep calm and breathe._ When thinking about it it just made it worse. He felt the ropes tighten as his body contracted against the sudden feeling of fear.  _Just breathe._ He thought about it, screaming, and there was a reasonable result that could of come from it; However, there was a rag blocking his airways at that moment. He always knew that shouting your anger out helped panic but the guys seemed pretty dangerous, especially if they could get hold of a sedative. So he went against the idea. Trying to breathe was harder than he thought, breathing was a instinctive action but when under the pressure of maybe suffocating in the trunk of a car, it becomes a Rubix cube in one.

 

_Pull yourself together Ian, stop being a pussy._ He lent his head back, clenching his eyes shut to some-what restore himself into a semi-mental state. He had been taught how to release himself from ties, especially rope, and yet it all cleared his mind till now. Time must have passed pretty quickly because he wasn't sensing a hangover just yet. Discarding that thought because he really didn't need another reason to be sick, he breathed slowly and massively to loosen the rope that was clasped around his stomach. He made sure that there was atleast some room free for his hands or feet to move just a bit less than an inch. It wasn't much, they did a pretty good job, but he needed that space to loosen the ties themselves.  _Breathe._ He felt himself whisper, maybe reminding himself that he wasn't in such a bad situation, despite the bad situation, would help him move more quickly.

 

He needed to find something to free his hands, but yet again his mind was cleared from any resourceful information.  _The Key_ . He shook his body, trying to hear it any keys were hidden in his jeans; but nothing. How could he be so stupid, he chucked them on the fucking couch. _ Breathe  _ he told himself, trying to make his body quit the act of wanting to kick and scream because the heat was closing in each time he moved. Right, all he needed to do was find something sharp; A knife,blade even a fucking rock if there was one there. Shifting slightly he used his tied legs to kick around the stuff within the small trunk. He waited till his foot hit something hard, using his eyes to locate everything surrounding his head. He jumped suddenly by the loud boom of a laugh from over the music, he stopped his movements, but it was quick to go back as it was; it must have been a red light he guessed, but then again he had no clue where he was nevermind being a road. 

 

He heard a clang against the lace of his shoe, he wasn't sure what it was but it sounded like a blade. “Fuck”his voice barely audible, pissed at himself for not carrying a weapon in the first place, and for hitting his ankle against the side of the trunk. He knew this process wasn't going to be easy so he pulled his knees to his chest, shuffling himself closer to the other side of the trunk; his hands to the side waiting for a available spot where he could just grab whatever clinked against his laces. In the most uncomfortable position, nearly bent in half, with his legs still tied hovering over him, he managed to capture the object in his sight.

 

It wasn't a blade, to his dismay. It was a metal bar, only a couple of centimetres long with it had a lot of width. It was the only thing that he could see, or feel, so that was going to have to do. His shirt had rose against his back through his shift so when pushing himself back to his original position his back burned against the rough lining the pain causing him to curse thunderingly. “Motherfuckin-” He muffled into the rag, telling himself not to focus on his injuries but to get the fuck out of there. He wished that someone would just find him, he wanted Mickey to come and smash the guys heads in; but he knew that wasn't going happen. Nobody probably noticed he wasn't there, he was always threatening to leave and he guessed he should have been careful for what he wished for.

 

Giving the metal bar some room, he bit against the rag as the cold metal his his flaming skin.  _ Breathe.  _ He repeated over and over, rubbing the metal against the rope with the left strength he had, he felt a couple of threads snapping but it was all moving way to slowly. He was getting frustrated, he hated the feeling of being trapped; unable to control his body and move around without something pulling him back. Yet, he had been kidnapped the worst sense of entrapment a person could endure, and he couldn't even speak to himself to keep sane. He carried on pushing the metal against the rope, smelling a burning smell; which only lasted for a couple of seconds when the smell of fuel was intoxicating the air. It was already loosening against his skin, the sense of relief hitting him but it mixed with the irritation of not being able to move properly. 

 

The rope pulled to a loose state, he could finally move his hands, so he pulled them from its hold. He flicked his wrists, rounding them in a circular motion until they both clicked. He rubbed at his skin, the imprints from the rope causing it to itch wildly. He panicked, scared that they dented in too deep, he felt his heart speed up; but he recollected himself in breathing... _ One. Two. Three.  _ He wasn't scared of the guys, fuck no, he had delt with worse in the shitty town, he was scared that no one would notice he was gone; or worse, no one would find him. 

 

Now for the feet, he sighed, he was exhausted and he knew that after this he wouldn't have the leg strength to run very far; he could work that bit later. Scuttling his feet he whined at friction of his knees rubbing against eachother; he needed more room to bend forward but the trunk was too compact to do all those things at once, aswell as feeling your brain shut down like a lunatic on acid. He removed the rag from his mouth, inhaling the cool air to refresh his lungs. He leaned up, his back tensing with the strain, he kicked his shoes off; the laces already loose from his failed attempt of trying to rid of them when he was drunk off his ass.

 

His fingers dug between rope, pulling at the knot to try untying it. They had done it professionally that was for sure, he was sweating all over the place and now and the frustration was riding on his ass; he was more pissed off than scared if he had to be truthful. He pulled the ropes around his stomach over his head finally free from the current restriction in his freedom. Now he had to escape, how the fuck could you escape from the trunk of the car, which is been driven by some professional kidnappers; well thats what he thought they were, but why does he have to pay for Lip's stupid mistake?

 

Possible clues around the trunk could help him get out, but they weren't be encouraging or offering any help at all to him. What was he going to do with cans of paint, or plastic wrappers, a metal bar that was hardly there any-more. He was having a laugh if this was going to be a easy route out. The light bulb struck in his brain, he remembered that stupid movie that Mickey had made him watch; The one where a girl was taken and shoved in a trunk. At the time he told Mickey that it was a crock of shit and that even though Halle Berry was badass, at the time it didn't seem relevant to his life. What a fucking stupid movie, he probably jinxed it saying it was pile of wank.

 

Right, he needed to remember what the girl did; he didn't give a shit if it was a movie it had to help with something atleast, right? He looked around the trunk, the back lights-  _ Yes.  _ Palming his neck he felt the dry thin strip of blood against the skin, stupid fucking needle. Ian pushed his feet into his shoes, not even bothering to tie them because he was probably fucked anyway, and he couldn't act like he had the time in the world when his body was squished in the smallest space ever. He wanted to pray to God and thank him that this car was a old model, otherwise the back headlights wouldn't be her saviour right now. Now, he had to do this without making way too much noise; the music was loud and he could only hear the mumble of their voices so he was just going to risk it. Fuck it.

 

One kick. It cracked, it needed more strength; that he didn't find himself feeling. Second Kick. He saw a ray of light coming from the piece of plastic that feel from the back of the car. The sound became louder and he immediately knew he was on the highway. Great, it was like he was in that stupid movie, luckily it was bright out and many cars were driving by. Third kick, the light fell out, it was dangling on a wire which he pulled completely off; the plastic crashed against the ground and he felt it bump under the wheel. He sat in shock, hoping that it wasn't too big of a shift for them to notice something was going on. However, the music seemed to get louder and the laughter seemed to be getting more irritating. The voices were more clearer, he guessed one of them had a window open.

 

“We've been driving for ages, when we getting there?” A voice moaned, it was blurred by the sound of the wind, but when Ian pressed his ear close enough to the hole in the back light it sounded clear enough. He looked out of the hole, seeing nothing but miles of cars and the grey road. It was endless and he couldn't seeing himself jumping out of the trunk and possibly being killed by a nearby car. Maybe he could do some action movie shit and jump from bonnet to bonnet; he fucking wished.

 

“Will you shut the fuck up or we will be driving to your god damn grave” He heard the meanceing voice of the capturer will the scars on his face; he remembered them clearly, they made his face distorted and Ian wondered who must of done that, or if he had done it himself. He, by far, didn't want to butt heads with that guy, he looked dangerous, he felt dangerous. Once he heard the music take over their voices once again, he committed to his plan; what he wasn't entirely sure would actually work.

 

Within the tight squeeze he pushed his hand through the open headlight and began to wake franically. He was sure someone must see it; they were hundreds of cars driving by atleast one of them must take a quick look. Pulling it back he looked through the hole, he could see the car behind and the driver seemed distracted their eyes fixed on the road. However, there was a kid sat in the seat beside her. He pushed his hand back out and continued to flash his hand out the trunk of the car. Suddenly he heard wheels drive by and he guessed the car behind had moved beside them. Taking a look he noticed the gap there now was, the car had driven to the side. 

 

Maybe they would ram the car, bash them off road; open the trunk and help him out. But he could feel the wheels below him began to speed up, the rocking of the trunk shaking more than ever. The car he once seen was far in the distant now, and he was sure they were going over the speed limit. Shit; this was where he was going to die, they knew. They knew he had gotten free and they would just kill him right there. He was going to die.  _ Breathe _ . He began to repeat again, like before. At least he could do that for now, he had to take advantage of the fresh oxygen getting through the hole before it got cut off completely. 

 

Before he knew it, the car stopped with a jolt, sending him straight into the wall of the trunk. He groaned as his face hit off the hard surface, keeping his ears open for any sign of where they might be. The music cut off and he could finally make out the voices of his captors. There was strange music, almost latino mixed with Greek, he swore he had heard that music before. One night Mickey needed ciggarettes and the only place open was the highway garage, it was filled with mexicans and jolly old men. Then he heard a close voice, and the opening of the petrol tank. He could hear the liquid in and shook against the voices that seemed just beside him. 

 

“You want me to clean car?” He heard a mexican man offer, his ears pricked up trying to sense where he was and if he could somehow signal he was in the trunk of the car. If he kicked it then maybe he would notice. But the music was far too loud, would he even hear him? “I can do it for 20 bucks” He heard him speak again. 

 

One of the men, who he assumed was Miles, commented back, “20 Bucks? You havin' a laugh, get stuffed you old prune” He heard shuffling of feet and a barrel of laughter, followed by a grunt that soon faded. His hopes were lost, the man was gone and it didn't sound like there was anyone else around. When he popped his eye close to the hole he could see a pair of legs covered in black jeans; quickly he reversed his actions not wanting to be risked being seen. 

“We gotta move, hurry up with that tank of petrol.” The leader demanded his footsteps also fading away, he had a click to his heel; as if he was wearing a metal toed boot with pointed ends. His slowed his breathing down so he could hear clearer of what was happening outside. 

 

From what he could denunciate the Mexican worker had come back, he huffed towards the men and moved across Ian's eyesight to the other side of the car. The pair of legs he had seen earlier made their way back to their spot. “Hey Freddie is it just me or is Jackson a fuckin' werido, I'm pretty sure he's gonna kill this kid if he gets the chance.” Ian gulped at the words, even though he didn't want to even agree with the fuckers who caught him, the Jackson guy looked able enough to kill Ian. 

 

“I think its the boots man, he said he got them from a place in Russia. I bet it was Secret service level shit.” He mumbled, making Ian laugh a little for how ridiculous he actually sounded. Freddie walked away from the car allowing Ian to finally see a limited amount of his surroundings. “I heard he won a game of Russian routlette, shot them all dead in 10 seconds flat.” Ian scoffed at the comment suddenly clasping his hand around his mouth before they could hear him. They had stopped talking but seemed to have shaken it off by the time Ian looked back out. 

 

“Well whatever happens Freddie, that kid has gotta be alive. The boss wants him breathing I'm not messing with that; and neither is he.” He dangerously lit up his cigarette between his teeth, and not until then did Ian crave for one of those things. He felt a rush of relief that he was not yet to die, but the was petrified about “the boss” if he was worse then these three then he might as well count himself lucky till then, he was fucked anyway. 

 

“Right, come on let helio work. We gotta eat.” Ian heard the close of the tank, the clip of the petrol pump back in its socket; the click of the two mens boots as they made their way over to the food counter inside of the garage shop. Ian was left in basked silence; the Mexican was still outside; he could do this now. First he couldn't let them see, Jackson was able and trained, secret service level, to kill, he needed to do this sneakily. 

 

He looked around, hoping there was a vacant spot he could just slid out of; then he saw it. His bright idea was too push the middle seat out, climb through and wave towards the Mexican guy to get him out. The factor he didn't think about was that they had locked the car before they went to get food; how the fuck was he going to do this without being heard. He had to try right? 

 

He pushed harshly against the back of the seat, only a small space opening for him to push through, he went head first through the hole; his body squishing against the enclosed gap. He whined as he suddenly felt claustrophobic, which was quiet funny as he was stuck in a trunk for god knows many hours. Half of his body was through, his hips were blocking the way to get in. With the help of the chair he gripped up to see where the Mexican guy was standing. From what he could see he was opening boxes just by the petrol pump, his back facing the window of the car. He saw the three men eating at a table just at the window of the garage diner. He waved his arms frantically trying to pry the attention of the men just a couple of feet away. 

“Come the fuck on, come the fuck on” He whispered to himself, willing the man to turn and just see him; he was tired and he couldn't hold himself up any longer; he had to scream. It was obviously the only way, he needed to get the mans attention before the three others get it first. 

 

Ian braced himself, “HELP! HELP ME!” he waved his arms above his hand, his legs scrambling to keep straight in the back of the truck. The Mexican guy turned from his spot eyes widening as he saw the lost and frightened boy stuck in the back of the car. “PLEASE HELP ME!” The guy bashed against the window, wilding running around to find some kind of weapon to smash it open. Just as he way Ian heard the click of the door to diner; the gasp of the man as he turned to its sound. 

 

“PLEASE, OH MY GOD.” Ian was failing to move now, screaming hectically as the men got closer. He wriggled until his stomach was almost free; the sound of the stranger hitting against the car door. Jackson was the first to react, he stepped up to the stranger, his hands smuggly held in his pockets. 

 

“What do you think you are doing?” His voice was smooth like velvet, his hand was resting against the crow bar the guy had recently picked up. Freddie and Miles stood back watching with fags in their mouths as Jackson talked to him. It was all to calm and he had to get out, the stranger needed to bash the window; bash Jackson's fucking head in so he could just run out and finally get free. 

 

“HELP ME, GET ME OUT!” he screamed it from his lungs,receiving a smack against the car window by Jackson. 

 

The stranger prepared himself behind his crow bar, his eyes quickly glancing back from Ian and to Jackson. “Open the door, right now.” Ian blinked knowing how this was going to unfold, Jackson had that same smirk he did when Ian had questioned him; the eveil glint the twisted smirk. No. No. Ian braced himself up on his arm; it weakening at the second, he tried pushing himself through but his legs were restricting him. 

 

Jackson's voice was a low rumble, “You know I can't do that.” It was intense, it was evil. It rolled off his tongue like he had said it a million times; before he moved he gave Ian a stare that he could never forget. He winked, a smirk twitching at his cold lips. Ian shivered, he tried to push himself through again but nothing came off it but a groan from his throat. “This wasn't meant to happen.” Ian heard him say, his heart beating at the second. 

 

Jackson moved around the car, grazing past the stranger. The stranger took the opportunity to hit against the car, the passenger seat window caving in completely. Ian immediately moved faster until it all moved in slow motion. Jackson had picked up the petrol pump, he moved around with a fag resting in his lips, he then began to pour it all over the stranger; in his face, eyes, hair, all over his clothes. Then he chucked it to the side, the line of liquid pouring away from the car. The stranger rubbed screaming at his eyes. 

 

“No!NO!” Ian screamed, cluttering himself to get out. He pushed and pushed but he couldn't move. Then he did it. Jackson lit up another ciggarette, balancing the lighter between his fingers. The stranger had ran away from the car, just a couple of feet away. Ian watched in terror as the lighter flew through the air and the flame hit direct onto the stranger. He watched as his whole body ignited into flames, his screams screiching through the air. All Ian could hear was the laughter of Jackson, and suddenly he felt the sudden grip around his ankles. 

 

He was dragged back to trunk, his arms twisting against the material. Jackson continued to punch his face, once in the jaw, twice in the nose. Freddie and Miles walked slowly over, distant screaming still in the air, they pulled at Jackson's arm to tell him to stop and that they needed him atleast with one eye open. Then they shut the trunk, the rattle of the keys loud and purposeful as they locked it up. They all quickly got back into the car, Freddie blocking up Ian's recent exit and taping it so it didn't budge an inch. 

 

“No one is fucking leaving this car till I say so, you got that?” He heard Jackson order, his voice like a military officer that used them train them back at southside. He did sound familiar, Ian couldn't put his finger on it. “Lets fucking go.” the rumble of the car caused him to yelp, he could still hear the violent burst of yells and burning coming from behind them. 

 

However, somehow they hadn't noticed the headlight being kicked out; he could still use that. They were back on the highway and he could easily signal his kidnapping with white paint; it was bright against the black car and it could make a trail for someone to see. He gripped the cans; pulling them over to his legs. Using the metal bar he used with the ties he lifted the lids with force, the heavy cans nearly tipping with its content. 

 

Leaning over to the access point he pushed at the bottom of the can, lifting it so it would pour out of the can and into the road. He waited till the first can was empty, looking out to see if any car had noticed anything yet. There were a few but they weren't close enough to see it yet; he still had another can, he could use this. He scooted the can over clicking his elbow as he lifted the second. He waited till a car came close enough, his hands covered in paint and now all over his face, straining with strength he began to pour the second pot of paint outside of the car. 

 

“Hey! Hey You!” Ian abruptly heard from the side of the car, at first he thought it was too him but it wasn't. That was worse, someone was directly addressing them and this could end badly, worse than them killing a stranger with petrol, worse then kidnapping him and persisting to keep him locked up in a trunk. 

 

“What?” He heard Jackson call out with an annoyed tone, Ian knew he was still on the verge of violence; he just killed a man and he's still listening to the shit music while laughing with the others. They just  _ killed  _ a man. His mind needed to re-run that over a couple of times. 

 

He heard the wheels start to brim faster, “You got some paint coming out of your trunk, you might wanna check it out.” Holy shit. Ian's plan had diverted to the other direction. The man in the car was meant to call the police, shoot them done, but yet he's helping them; telling them that Ian was clearly trying to escape. He was fucked, the fear finally sickened him. 

“Thanks man, I will just..er check it out.” 

 

The car changed it direction sending Ian flying into the side of the trunk. His face was burning up against the bruises that were slowly but clearly forming. The car was speeding he could hardly hold on without having to brace himself. Then there was a drastic turn sending him to the other side of the trunk; his ankle twisted and a pain wave shot right through him. “Ah fuck.” He pressed against the skin and bone, it hurt badly; he had sprained it..well atleast it wasn;t broken, but it did steal his chances of being able to run away.

 

The clutter of shoes told him this wasn't over yet, they had stopped and the footsteps were drawing nearer. That's it, he's gonna die. He laid flat against the surface awaiting his own fate with a idea full of strength jolting in the back of his mind; the trunk opened drastically. The three of them were hovering over it staring down with anger, Freddie examined the paint all over the car and dripping against the floor. Miles quickly picked up all the items that Ian needed to get out; all that was left was the four sets of rope and the plastic wrappers. Jackson stared down at him, a smirk tugging on his lips that made Ian feel uneasy. 

 

The other two walked off, loading all the weaponry into the back of the car. Jackson bent down taking in Ian's sudden gasp for breath and rise of temperature. His smoothed the roughness of Ian's red hair before grabbing it clean and yanking it back. “You are on fucking smart arse, if I didn't have to keep you alive you would be meat on my folk right now.” The spine chilling words made him want to vomit, it wasn't every day you have someone say that to you. The grip remained even as he pulled out something from his back pocket. 

 

Without having to see the bottle Ian already knew what it was, he was holding a napkin in one hand and the bottle of Chloroform in the other. Before Ian could react with his loose arms and his sprained ankle a unfamilar voice eloped through the air, as if he was Ian's saviour of some sort. 

 

“I came to see if you needed any help, what was it just a leak?” It was the same guy off the road, the same voice. Ian opened his mouth to scream but before could Jacksons hand was on his mouth, his ring digging into his cheeks skin. “Is everything okay back there?” He could see a little struggle, the way that the two guys unloading items looked particularly shifty and the taller guy was acting as if he was sorting an engine at the back of the car. Seeing paint coming out of a broken headlight was not normal, he didn't understand it; and to say at least, he was suspicious. 

 

Jackson pressed hard against Ian's mouth, tilting his head sideways, obviously to the other two. “Yeh, My headlight must of fell out. I'm just going to repair it.” he faked a smile and waved towards the guy as if to say”fuck off I want to kill this kid” but it didn't show. He pretended fixing something his fists welding into Ian's chest as he did. “You can go now, I'm nearly done.” 

 

The guy felt himself question the taller man holding something in his trunk, he was a bit blunt and he might have not even offered his help. The way they all were shifting didn't fit right; he sensed something less than normality. He nodded his head and watched all the way over to his own car, the other two staring him down until he got into his front seat. 

 

Ian cried against the hand, he had heard the other cars door click; its engine beginning to run. It was no help now. Until Jackson let go suddenly and gave Ian an airway to kick him out of his path, he slammed his foot into his ribcag knocking backwards. He scrambled with his footing jumping out of the trunk where he then slammed to the ground due to his twisted ankle. 

 

The man in the car was dialling on his phone, the car still not moving. “Hello, this is 911 what is your emergency?” He shifted the phone higher, preparing to tell a story that might not even make sense. 

 

“I'm on the north way of the highway and – Holy shit.” He caught it in the corner of his eye. A squalling boy crawling on the floor with his chest. There was blood everywhere, on his face falling over his eyes; in his hair. Behind him the taller man whohad seemed nice was rolling against the fall holding his chest; the other two were no where to be seen and he wasn't sure how to feel about that.

 

Then blasting through his window, he felt the crowbar hit his face. The window scattered in to little pieces and the metal collided against his cheek. Ian was still screaming against the floor trying to push himself up until Jackson stepped back up and kicked him square in the jaw. Miles pulled the man and stamped on his phone, knocking him in the head until he blacked out completely. Ian gripped his bleeding mouth, crying into the blood wallowing in his throat. Jackson stood over him, the bottle now gone but the napkin was covered. Ian tried to move his head, side to side and under his arms; but Jackson was too strong his grip was tight and he pulled Ian up by the grip of two fingers. 

 

“You fucking dead.” Was all he heard before he blacked out, the smell intoxicating him making his eyes droop.

 

When he did wake up, he was somewhere totally different with warmth right beside him. The roof of the trunk was different, and there was no light peeping through the back of it. He looked to the side and noticed there were no access points to even kick out the lights; wait they weren't even in the same car. Turning to the source of heat he noticed the same guy who had happened to try and call the police, his eyes were jammed shut and his hands were also tied. Both their legs were tied together and each time he tried to shift the rope burned against pained ankle.  _ Stay calm, stay-  _

 

“WHAT THE FUCK, HELP ME! FUCK GET ME OUT OF HERE.” The man beside him furiously awoken smacking the roof ot the truck with his tied hands and even his head. The music wasn't as loud as before and Ian was sure they all heard him. If they got back again someone was going to die, and Ian just hoped that this fucker would shut his mouth so they could work together. “HELP, LET ME OUT.”

 

Ian nudged him hard, “Shut the fuck up, shut up.” He tried to hit him with his hands but they were too swollen and too tied to even move. He heard someone sigh from the back of the car, and the wheels pausing to a break. “Stop screaming, please stop fucking screaming.” He begged and begged because he knew what the result would be. 

 

And yet, he was right. This time it was Miles who had opened the trunk, a screwdriver wafting in his hands. The guy beside Ian continued to scream kicking his legs pointlessly towards Miles who just grinned. As the screams got louder Miles got closer, and before he knew the screwdriver was stabbed straight into the guys chest; not once but five times. The blood splattered against Ian, aswell as the blood stroke from when Miles slid it over his face with a laugh. Before closing the trunk and glaring at the stiffening body, he whispered against Ian's ear. “Oh, look what you've done.” 

 

Slam. The trunk was shit now, and he was left tied to a dead body. It wasn't even possible to even beable to smell it already but he could feel himself puking as the car began to move once more. It felt like he hadn't been out in days and he was finally missing the sunlight. He wanted his home, he wanted the people in it. He wanted Fiona just fuss about him, bring him into a hug; prying everyone to join in. He wanted lip there to pass the joint, throw insults at him and laugh at how dumb he was. He wanted Carl to skin the motherfuckers in the front of the car, chucking him the baseball bat to hit them down. He wanted Debbie to be spine chilling dangerous and to verbally attack them till they felt themselves burning. He wanted Liam with his bright smile and his big hair, he wanted to hold him and dance around with him. Maybe he wished Mandy was there to kick some ass, show the guys that a woman has way more strength; maybe flirt a little to kick them in the teeth. He wanted Mickey, that was it. He wanted Mickey to hold him, telling him he would protect him after beating the hell out of them with his bare fists; he knew it was too good to be true, and wishes never come even if a shooting star did go by. 

 

Eyes were closed, then he felt it. Eyes were open, then he heard it. It was a buzzing sound, as if it was inside of the trunk with them- no him. It wasn't the guy beside him because he never heard of a dead man humming, and it was continuously vibrating. He searched his own pockets wondering if it was his own phone, he hadn't remembered where he had put it at the time when he and Mickey were talking; oh my god Mickey, maybe he knew. Maybe he was the only one that knew. It grew louder, stopping for a little bit and then starting again. 

 

No, No fucking way. It was obviously the dead guys phone. It was coming from him, inside of his suit pocket. Ian didn't want them to hear it, a phone was a valid source of rescue and it was his responsibility to use it wisely and get the fuck out of there. The stench was awful and he might not beable to stand it any longer, when he turned in a better position he adjusted his hands within the ties. His nose was almost touching the dead guys and he couldn't breath through it, he had to capture the air through his mouth and he had no idea what he could be pulling in. Awkwardly he lifted the suit with both hands together, using the rope for it to lean up as he searching within the pockets. He could feel the blood seeping through the fabric of his shirt, and it was brushing all over his knuckles. The rumble was getting quicker he could feel it. Pulling out the device with his tied hands he pulled immediately away from the body. 

 

The caller I.D was unknown but it showed to have over ten missed calls, and he didn't know the numbers back home off by heart; the next time it rang he answered it. 

 

“Hello?” His voice was awfully shaky and he couldn't control his breathing. There was heavy breaths coming from the other sides, he could even make out a couple of sniffs and whines, as if they were crying intensely in pain.

 

“Ian?” 


	4. Clue two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If you are confused about this chapter, as its a little bit to take in; look at the end notes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please tell me if this is shit, I'm not over the moon about this chapter:'(
> 
>  
> 
> errors will be changed tonight

Lip didn't understand why his mind was pulling at him so much; Maybe Ian had ran away, maybe he was just getting sick of his life there in Southside. If he found his way out then Lip wasn't blaming him; that wasn't going to stop him from bringing him home. Even though Southside beats you down until you can only find a inch of breathing, Lip had to bring Ian back; this was his home.

 

All the items still didn't link up; It was far too strange; and it was leading him towards how he left Ian on his own, letting anyone get to him. If it was who he thought it was then he had to find Ian in the next 24 hours. With those dealers he had first person accounts of what they could do; snapping of necks, stabbing people straight through the head; he had seen it all. They had said that if he fucked them over he would get the same treatment, or worse. He guessed that them maybe taking Ian was that worse.

 

He knocked on the solid door, not once but three times. An angry Russian stood in his way, her eyes scowling down at him like a predator stalking its prey. At this point he didn't even sense the intended intimidation, his eyes were too busy trying to bypass her body blocking the view of the rest of the house.

 

She moved in the direction of his eyesight, “Orange boy in not here.” The Russian accent flowed through the air, the hint of creakiness from smoking just shadowing it. He felt himself getting more agitated, if she didn't move in the next couple of minutes he was barging through; he didn't care, he wasn't having a kid with her or being forced into marriage; she wasn't in control of him like he knew she was over Mickey.

 

“I need to speak to Mickey, he here?” He darted his eyes up at her, she was covered in a dark green jumper, leggings to cover her legs; her whole pose signalling to him that she wasn't just going to give in. Fucking Russians.

 

Svetlana shook her head, her hand reaching for the door to slam it. Lip wasn't entirely sure whether Terry was still there; he didn't have any will to even care. If Mickey was the last person to speak to Ian, he must have known of something, a clue, even a fucking name. “No, he work. What do you want?”She glared her eyes down at him, for a second he believed that she was trying to protect her husband; or her ticket to a green card.

 

Before he could answer he felt his back pocket buzz. Even though it was Ian's phone he had still told Mandy to text him if anything else popped up, or if they had heard from him. It was Fiona, to his surprise.

 

_**Fiona:** Mandy is lookin after the kids I'm helping you find him, see u at Alibi in ten _

 

Shit, now he had to do this quick. Svetlana could be lying; she had that look, and from what Ian had blurted she didn't sound too nice, even though there seemed more than what meets the eye. “I need to talk to him” He hesitated to say about who, Terry could be sleep passed out; or he could be sat listening, he didn't know, he didn't want to find out, really. “About Ian.” 

 

Svetlana nodded her head laughing sarcastically, “You want to kill his ass, Orange boy crying something?” Her words were amusedly split, but it didn't change how scary she did actually sound. He thought to himself, that maybe yeh, he could beat the shit out of Mickey, but that had to be after he found out relevant information which might lead him to Ian.

 

Lip clenched his jaw, stopping himself from launching on a woman; do not hit a woman, that was his rules; even if she was carelessly laughing about his broken brother. “No, He's fuckin' missing.” He clicked his fingers, one by one, his knunkles beginning to go white against the pressure. Yet, he still didn't see a sense in remorse from the whore infront of him, he didn't see her trying to help at all. Time was running out.

 

“No, he run away.” She stated quickly, pulling out a ciggarette from the table behind her; she lit it up, inhaling deeply the smoke that soon was blown into Lips face. His heart quickened, not sure whether she was being serious or just playing him. Her face told him truth, but her smirk told him she was fucking with him, playing him at a game that he didn't _ever_ want to play.

 

“So, you _have_ seen him?” Lip darted up, suddenly more than alert. If she did know something then he would be utterly confused, Ian had shouted off various insults about her; why the hell would he address her about his whereabouts. It was all firing up and he could literally hear the clock ticking in his head, the deadly countdown that mealy existed but he knew was there.

 

The Russian shook her head, the fag burning within her fingers, it all made Lips face drop; his hope drop, she was playing him. “I run too, If I were him.” She nodded to herself, acquiring her own thoughts as she took a drag from the stick between her lips. Lip watched in pure defiance, his whole mind drawing to a halt. He had to go, he didn't want some pity bullshit; he wanted to find his brother.

 

“You sure you ain't see him here?” Lip checked one last time, hoping that somehow she would have caught eyes on Ian. But nothing, she shook her head shooting a glare towards him; What the fuck was her problem? “If he comes here, you tell him to come home.” Lip directed, knowing full well she would forget what he said a couple of minutes before. Before he stepped down the stairs to the house, he saw a strange look in her eyes. Something that didn't seem _natural_ to her. There was a glint, was it a sign of fear?

 

He heard the door slam so he took that as his queue to leave. Then he ended up taking the route to the Alibi. He knew Mickey was probably in there, because did Mickey work, fuck no. Ian had told him over and over how he pushed Mickey into working his job, but apparently after the _event-_ Which Ian would call it, he didn't tell him what happened but he sensed it was serious- Mickey hadn't come by to the shop any more.

 

He had expected Fiona to be waiting for him, but the outside of the bar was clearly empty. He wondered how long she took to walk, he remembered her telling him it was the quickest walk she'd always take; maybe she was just running slow today. Before his concern could track any further, he felt his pocket buzz again.

 

Leaving it, he stepped into the open bar. Kev was stood behind it, cleaning a glass with this towel that usually rested over his shoulder. No one turned around at his entrance, and he was glad of it. This gave him the opportunity to scan around the bar, checking if the Milkovich kid was in there; not in the booths, which he guessed was normal because Mickey wasn't one for a smooch in a booth; Not on a stool leaning over the bar, now that was strange. Maybe Mickey was at work that day.

 

Kevin caught his eye, raising his eyebrow in a way to gesture Lip to come over. Taking the invite he led himself to the stool just by the bar. Kev walked over, two glasses in his hand. “You alright kid?” he poured out two Jacks and cokes, the overflow nearly breaching the rim of the glass. Lip glared at it, his tongue still burning from the previous nights games, not to mention his worry was making his stomach curl in on itself.

 

“You seen Ian?” It was his first shot. Kev saw everybody that came in the bar, he always remembered silly little details that maybe in the past he would have been bored to hear, but now, he needed it. He needed the details to work this out. He downed his drink in one, fuck it he needed to feel numbness and over come the stupid shakes his hands were suddenly getting.

 

Kevin shook his head, placing the bottle back in its spot on the shelves. Taking his own glass he imitated Lip knocking it back quickly. “Nah man, I seen him here yesterday though. He didn't seem too happy, maybe he needs a Ball hug.” he pressed his finger against his chin, almost as if he was capable of thinking. Lip rolled his eyes and clicked his glass against the bar surface to signal for another drink.

 

“He's, er not at home. He might of runaway, but it all seems to fuckin' shifty.” Lip explained, watching as the contents of alcohol filled in his glass. Kev listened wearily. Lip didn't want to explain the shit he had found if he, himself, didn't understand why they were there. There was lingering thought in his mind that still told him something more was going on, and if it was the dealers, he was done for. “Fiona been here?” he asked, looking around to see if he could locate her, it had been longer than ten minutes and their house was only a couple of minutes away.

 

“No. The Gallagher's all pull a runway bride moment or somethin'?” Kev laughed, taking the money from the grunting customer on the other side of the bar and placing a glass full of beer onto the counter. Lip shifted awkwardly on his seat, he felt that spine chilling moment once again; telling him that if he wasn't quick enough then time would run out. Valuable time.

 

A couple of minutes past and he was trying to figure out all the shit that had gone on. He wasn't a private investigator, he didn't know the logic behind someone doing a runner. He didn't have to be a professional to know that Ian wouldn't leave without telling atleast one of them, or even a hint. Fiona even told him that Ian had directly disregarded the thought of enlisting; somehow it didn't fit.

 

Kev had gone outside for a couple of minutes, he came back and refilled Lips glass with a concerned look on his face. Lip looked beat, his hair all raggy and pulled, he could tell that the Gallagher boy was having a harder time than usual. “You pulling a Frank today Lip?” He tried to make a joke of it, one thing to make the rather angry looking man to crack a smile. But still, his stern face stuck.

 

“Mickey been here today?” Lip asked yet again if Kev had seen someone. He might aswell form a search party for the whole neighbourhood at this rate. He winced at the crucial burn that hit his throat, the liquid going down faster than he had expected. Kev took the glass from him pushing it to one side, he didn't want Lip drowning in his own sick by the end of the night.

 

Leaning his elbows against the bar, Kev swung the towel over his shoulder. “How many people are you looking for today? Jesus.” He nodded towards a guy at the end of the bar, putting his finger up to tell him he would be just a minute. He turned back to Lip, who looked as if his mind was beating him repeatedly. “Why you looking for him, you owe him some money or somethin'?” A typical question, because obviously no one knew Ian's and Mickey's situation, it probably looked alien.

 

“Long Story.” Lip jolted. “So, have you seen him? Its important.” He emphasised the last words, it was important. Ian was important. It was clear that his brother obviously didn't know that, and when Lip finds him he's going to kick his ass himself. Ian always had that selfless trait, and fuck if Lip hated it.

 

Kev tapped his fingers against the surface of the bar, turning in thought as he poured out the distant customers order. He walked to the end of the bar, placing the cup down and headed back over to Lip. “Actually, I did. There were some fancy ass cars outside earlier, they came to pick him up.” He shrugged his shoulders, instantly showing that he didn't really care for Mickey as much as he hoped of; At this point he wished that everyone loved Mickey Milkovich, then he would have got his whereabouts quicker.

 

“You see what for?” Lip was a genius, but he couldn't work out why some rich fucks would be collecting a southside kid randomly. He couldn't work out how a fancy ass car would survive in this neighbourhood, he expected it to be burned or stolen as soon as they crossed the area. He took a glance around, checking if Fiona had arrived yet, but the bar was still filled with drunk assed fucks and empty beer bottles.

Kev tutted his lips, “Nah, but it looked fucking weird. They were all in suits and shit. I waved and they scooted off like they weren't allowed to be seen or somethin'.” He scrunched his face up in confusion, he wasn't exactly sure why the hell they were there in the first place. They looked like they honoured secrecy, trust, but Mickey Milkovich was known for his loyalty, his loyalty to fucking things up and busting a couple of faces.

 

“Since when did a Milkovich hang with wanna-be spies?” Lip asked, smirking a little but it fell as soon as reality kicked in. His only hope to finding Ian was off with some rich fuckers, probably cracking open their safes and getting chased by the cops at that point, and shit, he was scared that the ticking in his head would stop. That the end was soon to jolt.

 

Kevin shrugged his shoulders, resting his arms against the cold surface of the bar. “Fuck if I know- HEY SEAN KEEP IT CLEAN OVER THERE FOR FUCKS SAKES- you need anything else man?” He was heading out from behind the bar now, still eyeing up how Lip was picking at the skin in the corners of his nails, the way his kept rubbing the back of his neck as he quickly glared around the room.

 

“No, I'm alright, Going to find Fi, she's probably flirting with some dick or something.” He stood up from his chair, nodding towards the taller man and nudging past the crowd of southside alcoholics. Once he got outside he wasn't expecting to see a flushed, frustrated, redfaced Russian with a coat wrapping awkwardly around her shoulders. He glared at her and she caught her breathing, her face still hard as ever.

 

“I-” gasp, “Need.” Another gasp. “To tell something.” her tone was snappy, her face still sharp but for some reason Lip stopped to listen to her. Before she had been playing him, and probably still was; however, she wouldn't have ran just to piss Lip off, he even knew that. “They have orange boy.”

 

Lip's eyes widened, was she joking. Was she taking the piss, or did she actually know where he was. “Are you fucking with me? Who has him?” he was feeling more frantic now, more guilty that a russian, whore who Ian actually hated, knew before his own _brother_ where he was. He brushed his curls back to his head, looking around more now he had noticed there was no sign of Fiona anyway. He faced Svetlana once more.

 

“You said he _might_ have ran away. No, they took him.” She wasn't making sense, or explaining how the fuck she knew. Lip was second guessing, maybe she was involved, maybe she was In on it. But then her telling him would defeat the point, she wouldn't tell him if she was trying to get rid of Ian. _Think Lip fucking think._

 

“Who? Tell me fucking who?” The frustration was riding him now, he didn't have time for this guess who bullshit. He placed his hands on her shoulders, watching as her eyes immediately darted towards him as if they would burn his fingers off for touching her, he pulled himself off her skin.

 

She pulled her coat around herself, one hand pulling Lip towards the nearest alley way. “I don't know who. No one knows who.” Yet, again she sounded fucking crazy, she lit up a smoke infront of him, offering him one which he gladly took. He didn't like the stall of time, it made him itch.

 

“You just said you know who took him? How the fuck can you not know who?” Lip snapped, violently exhaling the smoke from his lungs. He kicked at the slab in the alley, shouting in anger as mind was already shooting him to different conclusions. One, Ian could have been fucking kidnapped and now, he is learning that no one knows who took him. Second, it was fucking strange that a Russian was telling him all this, one who apparently hated Ian in the first place. Thirdly- where the fuck was Fiona, she was meant to be there less than half an hour ago.

 

Svetlana swished her hair to the side, taking a long drawn drag from her ciggarette. “You steal from Johnny, _yes?”_ Apparently she knew everything these days. She nodded for Lip to answer and he agreed silently, how the fuck did she know that he had stolen from Johnny, who at the time had been providing him with drugs runs, drugs and even bags of money.

 

“I know Johnny, you steal from him, he take from you.” She pointed with her cigarette, her eyes still remaining serious, reminding him that she wasn't playing any more. Lip narrowed his eyes, then progressing them fully as he realised what she as getting at. “You stole the codes, _yes?”_ She continued to question him, acting as if knowing all this business was normal.

 

“Yes, they were for his safe or some shit.” Lip was sure of it, he had heard one day when he came to collect of some sort of number code that was used for a safe. When he broken in and stole a couple of things he saw them stashed in a drawer with Johnnys office, he took them in pure hindsight that Johnny would kill him for it. Svetlana raised her eyebrows, smirking as if he was the stupidest fucker alive. “What?”

 

“No safe. It's not Johnny we should be worrying about.”

 

Lip stubbed out his fag, squishing it will full force of anger. “What the fuck, obviously we should worry about him, he got my fucking brother!” He discarded the safe point, how could he not worry about what that fucker could do to Ian, was she crazy.

 

Svetlana, who was stronger than he initially expected pushed him against the opposite wall. “There are others, worse than Johnny. Others who would rip his dick off and feed it to shark.” She gripped hard to the collar of his jacket, spitting the words into his face with raw intimidation.

“Worse, what the hell are you talking about?” Now he was confused. She was springing more shit onto him, how the hell could he trust her. Who could be worse than Jonny? “Johnny didn't work for anyone.” He knew that, he heard it enough.

 

Svetlana let him go, looking out incase anyone heard. “Johnny was specialist, used numbers. I used to work for Nico Svatoni, biggest pimp. They work together, before Nico kick him out. They copy codes for their safe, something to do with secret mafia. Johnny would look after codes, but you took them. Nico would skin alive, would burn whoever could get into that safe.” She carried on, pacing as the cold carried on hitting her. “You took codes. Nico threat Johnny. Johnny take orange boy and soon Nico take Orange boy.”

 

“What would he want with Ian, why didn't they just get me?” Lip asked, concerned that Ian was suddenly a target for his own mistakes. “How the fuck do you know all this?”

 

“I don't know. But he will get codes, he do anything for his own things.” She mumbled to herself, shifting around a little more. “I work for him for three year, he treat me bad. I know that if Johnny does have orange boy, Nico will kill him before he take your brother. Do you understand?” She wasn't at all making sense.

 

Lip tried to compute it all. So, Nico was some fucked up mafia leader who had some codes, that he happened to steal, which opened to a safe that had Mafia secrets. Now that he had took them from Johnny, Johnny is trying to please Nico by killing the fucker who took the codes. From what Svetlana was saying, her accent at some points harder to get, was that they had already targeted Ian before Lip had even took the codes; for a reason neither of them knew. And if Johnny did have Ian, soon Ian would be in more danger than he was already in. Shit. He had to do something. “How much time do we fucking have?”

 

Svetlana counted in her head, she remembered Nico's passages of torture, the varieties in the extremes he would go to. “24 Hour. Nico kill before talk.” That was all she said before attempting to walk from the alley way, before Lip gripped her back by her arm; no way was she just leaving with a fucked up story, hardly understandable lingering in the air.

 

“You are helping. You know more shit about this than I do.” He let go of her arm as she shoved him off. “You gotta explain better because I'm fucking confused right now, so has Johnny got Ian?” he asked, trying to make better sense of the riddle she had just displayed before him.

 

“Maybe. Did he run away?”

 

Lip pulled out the phone from his back pocket, the screen still set on Fiona's last text, he looked at it silently not sure whether being worried for her now was the best option. He chucked it to Svetlana's chest, rubbing at his forehead. “He left all of his shit. Coat, phone all of his clothes. Hell, he wasn't fucking running away.”

 

She examined the contents of the phone, running through his calls and texts. Lip wondered when the hell she was suddenly concerned about his brother; shouldn't she be following her husband like a puppy dog right now? “Anything else.” She muttered, her eyes taking a quick glance up before eyeing the phone again.

 

“Yeh, a needle cap and a ripped piece of his shirt.” He had pocketed the needle head, but left the shirt. He plotted the crushed plastic into her palm, watching her as she turned it against the light around the skin on her hand. She nodded to herself before shoving the phone back into Lips chest.

 

She pointed to the plastic, “Johnny. He use drugs to take them, learn it from Nico.” She put the needle head into her coat pocket, her eyes narrowing in thought. Lip fidgeted in his spot, not sure how to take all of this; how the fuck was he going to explain this to Fiona, that was something he wasn't looking forward to.

 

“Why would Nico want Ian though, he doesn't even fucking know him?” How did Ian even get caught up in something that he wasn't involved with. How did Lip miss all of it, obviously stealing those codes was a bad idea, but would that have stopped Ian getting caught anyway. “Wait, did Johnny think Ian was me? Was that they _he_ took him.”

 

Svetlana huffed out an annoyed breath, “Probably. Nico would have taken him anyway.” it was as if she was in on it herself, how the fuck she knew all of it was unknown to him; she was helping for some fucking reason, even though she had never even spoken to lip; now they were acting like some detective team.

 

“That's why Nico is going to go after Johnny, because he has Ian?” That's fucked up. Nico had some beef with Ian, and because of some shitty action Lip did Ian had been taken in his name; yet to be taken again by some fucker with a fetish and anger issues. “This is fucked up.”

 

“We must go now. Time run out, Nico is fast.” She stepped out of the alley, Lip following her. He wasn't sure where they were going, he didn't even know where to start. First he needed Mickey because he probably knew more than he did, and secondly maybe having a russian on his side was a good thing, he was bluffing but he needed the protection. By the sounds of it, this Nico bloke sounded fucking hard as nails, or maybe he would stab him with nails; he wasn't sure. What he did know was that Ian was in danger, could be danger, and they needed to move quick.

 

“Wait, how do we even know they have Ian?” Lip asked, because there was still that possibility that Ian had run away, there was still that possibility that he was hanging out in a gay bar somewhere; smoked off his ass and fucking old fuckers in the back of the clubs. How did they know that Johnny had mistaken him for Lip and that this Nico guy wanted Ian so badly, that he was willing to kill his friend for him. “Maybe he's just runaway.”

 

“Do you want to take that chance?” Svetlana stopped in the street, her hands gripping to the sides of her coat. Some how he might have seen some guilt in her eyes, somesort of concern for Ian; he wasn't sure why she was helping. He kept an eye out for Fiona, because her timing was getting even more ridiculous.

 

“Why the fuck are you even helping, aren't you meant to be waiting at home for you husband?” He asked still angry that Mickey managed to break his brothers heart, and yet here he was talking to the reason it had been shattered.

 

She stormed on further, letting Lip notice that they were heading in the way of the Gallagher house. “Fuck Husband. You want help or not?” She spat on the ground, her stance even more scary than usual; this is what he had to work with, this scary ass russian was his only hope? What the fuck was he going to do.

 

“Yes. But why are you telling me all this, you and Ian are not the best of friends.” He knew that from Ian's story telling, the shouts in the bar, the screams he could hear with a crack of a heart. No one actually knew Svetlana, she didn't seem the friendliest of types, but somehow he felt a lament trust towards her.

 

“Doesn't matter.” She mumbled to herself, pushing away the subject completely. They reached the Gallagher house and Lip walked up first, it would be weird if Svetlana had randomly entered screaming shit about the Mafia and Ian being kidnapped by some guys who initially thought it was lip.

 

The door swung open as they both stepped inside, Carl frowned as the two walked in rushing around aimlessly. “Carl, get your fucking bat.” Lip called, rummaging to find his gun he had bought from Lennie down the street; he had only used it once but fuck, he did know how to fire it. “Where's fi?”

 

Carl rushed up collecting his bat, confused, and turned his head towards the question. He checked out Svetlana with a scrunched up face, he had no clue who the fuck she was. “She went looking for you, we beating a local pedo again?” His grin didn't match Lip's face, he dropped it as soon as Svetlana started mumbling in Russian.

 

“Ignore her. And ah, no. It's worse. I will explain on the way.” He wasn't going to go through the whole routine of getting Svetlana to tell the story, they hadn't even made a plan of action yet and they were collecting up weapons. “Where's Mands?”

 

“I'm here, what the fuck is she doing here?” Mandy was stood at the bottom of the stairs, Debbie and Liam just beside her. She glared towards Svetlana who was grabbing all of Carls nearest knives and pocketing them into her fur coat. “Why the hell are you collecting weapons, who you planning on killing?”

 

“She knows who took Ian, we gotta move before things get even more fucked up.” He chucked one of his guns towards Mandy. “Debbie, you and Liam go to Kev's and Ve's.” He sighed with relief as she didn't protest.

 

“Where's Fiona, she left like 20 minutes ago.” Mandy asked, pulling on her coat quickly still glaring at her brothers wife, still having no clue why she was helping. “You find Mickey?”

 

“No there was no sign of him.” Lip stated, nodding towards the door so they all could follow. He shouted up to Debbie and Liam that he was going, not telling them anymore because fuck having a family feud when he could be bust beating the asses of those who took Ian. “Shit, we are going to have to find her.”

 

They all reached outside, Carl still confused, Mandy still glaring and Svetlana casually sharpening one of Carl's refined knives. Lip finally explained what the whole thing was about, resulting in Carl hitting at a brick wall, Mandy clicking her fingers. They all brought it in that they needed to get Ian back before the 24 hours were up, they all knew the consequences. First the needed to find Fiona, they couldn't do this without her.

 

“I'm going to fucking kill them.” Carl cracked his neck, already bursting to go. He felt Lip place his hand on his shoulder, he immediately wanted to push it off but let it be for the moment.

 

“Bud, no one is killing anyone. You ain't going to Juvie. We get Ian and we fucking run, by what Svetlana's says they will skin us alive if they catch us.” He pulled his hand off, leading them down the steps and into the street. It wasn't alien to be walking down the street with a pack of people holding a group of weapons. It was basically a casual weekend in southside, besides the factor of them being involved with a Mafia frenzy.

 

Mandy stopped infront of Lip, her hand abruptly jolting him to a stop. “And why the fuck should we trust her, shouldn't we get Mickey first?” She knew the whore was only there for Terry's benefit, she knew that Mickey obviously didn't love her. So, for al they knew she could be using them to let Terry get at them; who the fuck knows.

 

“Because she's all we've got. Mickey has gone AWOL, if we don't do what we can Ian could be dead soon.” Lip winced at the words, he didn't want to believe them but they might be the case. He spoke quietly because he was sure not to piss Carl off anymore than he already was, he knew if any guy needed a beating Carl would be the first to hit.

 

Svetlana cut off their conversation, still looking around for Fiona who didn't seem to be walking. “Curly fries, what the fuck is your plan?”

 

Lip looked from person to person, pleading for answers but he had no clue. He didn't know how to work against the Mafia, or someone who had a impulsive urge to have his brother, for a complete unknown reason. “Fuck if I know. But we gotta do something soon.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To summarize incase you don't get it; Johnny is working for Nico, the codes that Lip stole were for a safe that held Mafia information. Johnny's men took Ian thinking he was Lip, but however, Nico already wanted Ian, so what Svetlana is trying to say is that Nico is going to kill Johnny so he can have Ian- why, well that's soon to come


End file.
